Voice of Experience
by Nova-Dreamer
Summary: The Boy Who Lived has died by his own hand, leaving his first friend as the last one left alive. He'll do anything to change that, even sending his thoughts back in time to change everything. H/G, R/H, New Twist on Time Travel Plots
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my latest creation, 'Voice of Experience'. This is a work of fiction that came to mind when a friend of mine spoke of an interest in time travel based fan fiction. I rather enjoyed the plot line the first few times I read it as well, but I feel it has gone a bit stale. So instead of complaining, I decided to create something I hope is fresh and interesting.

There is very little to say at this point. I don't care for angst based stories, so please do not be alarmed at the first portion of my work. It is simply needed to advance the plot, and shall become lighthearted soon enough. Also, I am not british, nor do I try to be when writing this. So I admit, I sometimes slip in and out of mannerisms and sayings when writing about british characters. I promise to try and brush up on various saying and improve in time.

Without further adieu, I present to you my story. And I give all rights to those who earned them originally. I am simply using your work to give me a spring board into writing bigger and better things.

Note: Story breaks from canon after year five.

**Voice of Experience**

Ron stood over the empty grave before him. At twenty three, he was already far too used to these feelings. The loss, the gut wrenching sense of loss was unbearable, yet no amount of preparation could have helpd him cope with this. This final loss had truly brought home the fact that he was alone.

Harry Potter, his best mate, had killed himself.

The boy who had lived willingly ended his own life, and in an odd turn of fate left only Ron as the survivor of a bloody war. Voldemort was dead, murdered by Harry in a half crazed moment, striking when the dark lord had expected resistance the least.

Sighing, Ron sat down in front of the grave, staring at the epitaph that only read the name of one of the most tragic heroes the wizarding world had ever seen. Surrounding him were the graves of everyone else he had ever known, each one murdered by Voldemort. His mother, each of his brothers, Ginny, his sister and Harry's girlfriend, and even Hermione. He didn't know if he had the right to be sitting with them, but he had long overcome enough of his guilt that he could at least pretend for a time that he was worthy to be here with them.

In retrospect, it was probably only the fact that he had stormed off from his family and friends in a stubborn rage that had won them the war, but it didn't make it easier to accept. He had been foolish, angry over something stupid Hermione had said, leaving everyone alone in the orchard of the Burrow while he continued on inside. A large explosion had rocked him off his feet, and Ron had felt the massive discharge of magic as the wards surrounding his home broke, allowing a group of death eaters in.

It hadn't even been a fight, the death eaters had just descended on them like rabid dogs while Ron struggled to make it back to help them. Before he had even made it halfway to their sides, they had been taken away by portkey, leaving him alone.

The next few days had been hell for Ron. He hadn't slept more than minutes at a time, spending all of his time in search of a death eater, any death eater, to tell him where they had taken his friends. It didn't matter to him what he had to do to extract that information either.

Looking back, it was clearly a horrible way to go about helping his friends.An underage wizard only about to enter his seventh year of hogwarts, sleep deprived and fueled by rage, was looking for a fight with trained sycophants. Even to this day he wasn't sure how he managed to not get himself murdered in those few days he had traveled, knowing he had pissed off many people a lot less forgiving than the death eaters as he tried to hunt down a clue.

Only after finally collapsing on the fourth day of his searching did he get a full night of rest, and that had made him curse himself for his impotence. Even as he let the obscenities flow, he had heard multiple pops outside the alleyway he had fallen into. He remembered the rage in his heart bloom when he saw the black robes of the bastards he had been hunting. Without thinking he had jumped out to duel the three men, taking one down with a stunner before they could react. Ron then had closed the distance between them, and wand forgotten, began to beat the two men. It had been bloody, and he easily recalled the feeling of them breaking under his fists, and the visceral enjoyment it gave him.

He had even seen one of the men reached for those damn portkeys of theirs, and grabbed it, activating it for himself. Appearing in a room of what he later learned was a mansion belonging to the Goyles, he had been alone with the sounds of screams coming from a nearby room, and his blood had frozen.

Grabbing his wand, he ran towards the source of the screams, kicking open a large ornate door, and came to a halt as he was forced to face the sight before him. No matter how he tried to forget it, the image he had run into would always invade his nightmares from then on. Hanging in a circle around where Harry lied writhing on the floor were the bodies of his family and friends. Each one showing the signs of extreme torture, blood staining the floor beneath them. And at the head of the room was Voldemort, hanging directly to either side of him were the bodies of Hermione and Ginny.

Ron rubbed his knees absently, looking into the sky as he struggled to keep down what little he had eaten that day. When he had seen it, he remembered falling to his knees and vomiting. Two of the most important girls in his life had obviously not died easily. The signs of cuts and broken bones were visible, as was the fact that they had probably been raped repeatedly while Harry was forced to watch. All around him Death eaters had stood, laughing at his reaction. Voldemort, though, just stared at him with a bored expression on his face, continuing to hold Harry under the cruciatus curse.

It could have been hours that he stayed there, on his hands and knees shuddering as his friend screamed, but it was probably only a moment or two before the dark lord had stopped his torturing. The silence must have broken him of his trance, because then he had done something incredibly reckless and foolhardy, and had stood up to face the fantatical and xenophobic terrorist. His fear was forgotten, and he had just sneered, telling the bastard just where he could shove his wand, as well as a few other inventive uses for his orifices.

Ron had smirked, despite everything that had happened up until that point. He still felt a sort of instinctive pride at the horrified gasps the death eaters had given him, as well as the look of unmitigated hatred on Voldemort's face.

From there had begun a pitched battle for Ron. He had recklessly rushed in headfirst into a situation he had no hope of surviving without getting the help of Dumbledore or the Order, and he supposed he should have died for that stupidity. The only thing that had kept him alive was a stubborn resistance telling him not to give into those curses that hit him, and the fact Voldemort had wanted to prolong his suffering.

"Look Harry," Voldemort had commanded after landing a cutting curse along Ron's ribs, "another one of your friends has come to die." Ron remembered the dull glassy look in his friend's eyes, and he doubted the other boy had understood the words. He had probably been under the cruciatus curse for too long, and it was likely his mind was gone. The rage of that thought had fueled his temper, and in a brave but reckless moment, he had taken another curse to score a particularly powerful punching curse to Voldermort's shoulder. The large snap as the bone broke was deafening as the death eaters stopped their taunts in paralyzed fear of their master's wrath.

The power Voldermort had then threw at him was incredible. Ron had been batted back like an annoying fly against a wall. Before he could move, Voldemort had pointed his wand at him, using the cruciatus curse on him. He had screamed and screamed, feeling the worst pain imaginable to man. Through it all, Voldemort had taunted him, saying he would save his life if he would only kill Harry for him.

Ron still shuddered at the thought of such a request, and even though it had been against his body's strongest desire to do so, he had refused. The pain had intensified as Voldemort grew angrier, but from where he was, he could see what the other man hadn't been able to.

As he had brokered his deal, Harry's head had picked up a bit, and after refusing to hurt Harry, Ron felt hope enter his heart as a bit of fire returned to his friends eyes.

The next moment had always been beyond his explanation, but Harry had stood, and despite the collective gasps of the death eaters, Voldemort ignored them in favor of continuing his torture. Raising his hand, Harry had pointed it palm first at Voldemort, a faint glow growing around it, shining like a faint ember before growing into a strong golden corona. Voldemort had finally stopped his torturing, turning to face the source of light, and he had commited to memory the gasp of surprise Voldemort gave as Harry released the power.

From his hand flew a phoenix made of Harry's magic, and something more, something that had filled Ron with hope and a deep warm feeling he had ever since been without. Harry's magic had been fueled by his love, his last bit of love had gone into a spell so strong it drove into Voldemort too fast to stop, causing the man to jerk and arch his back as a silent scream left throat. The man had glowed gold for a moment before the light turned red, engulfing the leader of the most fearsome group of blood supremists the world had ever seen. All around them the dark mark on the arm of each man present took on the same light, before they too caught fire.

In a moment, everyone was dead, except for the boy who had lived and his very first friend.

Sighing, Ron pushed himself up from the grave, not turning back to look at it lest he be tempted to sleep the entire night here. It was like his march back home with Harry and the bodies of everyone he cared for. He had levitated them on a long march out of the manor, making it a few miles in the direction of civilization before being found by the Order of the Phoenix.

After that had come the darkest days for both Harry and Ron. Harry had never been the same after that ordeal, and he could hardly blame him. He lived at Hogwarts, under watch by Ron and the rest of the staff to make sure he didn't do something to himself in their absence. Without their help he would never eat, and rarely slept. The only words he ever spoke were short sentences, and then only to Ron.

Even though he had wanted to spend all of his time with his friend, Ron had thrown himself into work. He had become an Auror, intent on stopping anything like this ever happening to anyone ever again, and he secretly thought that Harry, wherever the real Harry had been inside the shell, was proud of that.

Ron had even begun to master his temper, and became the best, if most lonely Auror, the department had seen in years. He never went out with his coworkers, rarely talked to others unless spoken to first, and had turned down the advances of many of his female acquaintances. After Hermione, there was no way any of them could ever hope to replace her in his heart.

Maybe Ron should have seen the signs coming better than he had. Harry had seemed to have been getting better over the past few weeks, and he had held hope that after so many years he was finally coming to terms with his innermost demons. A new light and drive had seemed to fuel the dark morose man, and he had begun to care for himself without the aid of others, and many with him had praised it as a good beginning. None of them had expected that the boy whose love had saved them all had only been stringing them along so he could kill the one last person he hated above all others, himself.

In a foolish moment, everyone had agreed to let him go to bed early without a chaperone. Even Ron had thought little of it, instead enjoying a firewhiskey and discussing the finer points of a spell he had learned with the Defense against the Dark Arts professor, which had become the honor of being reinstated to Remus Lupin. He had felt better than he had in years, and was beginning to think that while he may never be happy, things were going to get better.

The loud boom from room he and Harry shared in the teacher's wing of Hogwarts rang out loud enough to shake the fixing over the fireplace. A step faster than Dumbledore, he had raced up the stairs to see the window open, and Harry broom gone from the mantle place. Outside, falling to the ground was a large fireball, and he had just been able to make out the shape of the person within.

Despite their best efforts, the attempt to save him had been useless, as the body had burned to dust before anybody reached him, leaving Ron as the sole survivor to a legacy no sane man would want.

Deciding he had walked far enough, he pulled out his wand and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, seeing the lights on in Gryffindor tower as students rested and enjoyed the peace his friend had sacrificed everything for.

It was just so damned unfair, Ron thought, feeling his temper rise. Instead of fighting it back down for once, he let it fill him, enjoying the feeling it gave him. He was expected at the office of Dumbledore any time now, but he ignored that, heading for the Room of Requirement instead. He taught defense seminars in here on the weekends to willing students, but he knew it would be empty on a week night. These children were the first generation to grow apart from the fighting his had seen, and were not so motivated to learn the skills of fighting like he and his friends had been.

Pacing in front of the door with foot steps hard enough that they echoed in the silent hallways, he opened the door to a large training room before slamming it shut behind him. Before him were various muggle equipment to help him work out, and down the way was a shooting range to practice his magic. Before setting into work, he transfigured the suit he had worn to the funeral into something more fitting for this sort of activity.

He didn't say anything for the next few hours as he let go of his frustrations. He imagined every death eater he had ever met, enjoying the sight of his fists and spells being aimed at their most sensitive parts. Sometimes he found it hard to not think what it would have been like if he had trained this hard, or even half as hard as Harry had, before the final days. Maybe he could have made more of a difference, but he would never know for sure, and he had to accept part of his skill had come from being trained by the best, which had only been possible because he was an Auror.

Leaning against a punching bag, Ron held himself up by his arms as he took a few shuddering breaths, trying to regain his composure. He was getting worried about how much his mind was turning back into dark thoughts. He had to mourn Harry, but he was worried about what that would do to his remaining sanity. It had only been for the sake of keeping Harry alive and well that he had been able to pull through the depression of his family and friends dying. Dumbledore had been helpful, having lived through a war himself, and had tried to impress upon him how he had to move on, for there was no use in letting the past rule him.

It had been a load of rubbish, good rubbish yes, but rubbish when things truly hurt, but he knew the man was right. The past was not the place he should be living in, metaphorically speaking at least.

Ron stopped. His breathing halted, and for a moment he felt the skipped beats of his heart as the last thought really sunk into his head. Wizards had some control over the past. The use of time turners, while relatively weak in effect, was obviously proof of such an ability.

He also was in the castle with the best wizard the world had seen since the age of Merlin Ambrosius. Ron had been made to listen of how lucky he was to be taught by such a genius, and forced to hear people extol about Dumbledore's many advances in the theory of magic.

Grabbing his wand from a nearby table, he ran from the room at a jog, transfiguring his clothing into more acceptable trousers and shirt as he made his way to the headmasters office. The gargoyle didn't even ask for a password, and he suspected the headmaster had understood his need for privacy and had been prepared to accommodate him when he finally chose to arrive.

Rushing up the stairs two at a time, he slammed open the door to the room, and Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking older than he every remembered him. Dark bags were under his eyes, and he was beginning to look positively skeletal. But the man still had an air of power around him, and that stunning aura was what shook him from the stupor the sight had put him in.

In two steps, he had crossed the room, and pointed his wand at the man's forehead, holding it steady as he stared him directly in his eyes. "I need your help," Ron said, "and I don't want you to give me the misdirections and half truths Harry had to put up with. I don't care if you're the best duelist alive, we both know you won't kill me, and I will be back as many times as it takes to get what I want."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Ron smirked, not surprised that the venerable old man found his outburst amusing. He was serious, deadly so, but a part of him admired the bravery Dumbledore still showed even when so weakened by age. Many a dark wizard he had captured in the past few years could boast the same confidence, but none of them were nearly as powerful as the man across from him now.

Steepling his hands, Dumbledore rested his chin on his fingers, "And what might I be able to do for you, Mr. Weasely?"

"You have been considered the greatest genius in terms of boh theoretical and experimental magic the world has seen since Merlin, have you not?" Ron quieried.

Dumbledore gave him a genial smile, "I might have received such an honorific once or twice, though I hardly think it fair to compare myself to such a figure as Merlin. May I ask why that involves your having a wand pointed at me?"

Ron smiled tightly, "You may. It involves you because I want you to help me with a little project of mine. How does a time turner work, professor? And do try to keep it simple, I am not as smart as either Harry or Hermione were, so I don't care to be fooled just because you chose to word your response in such a manner I won't understand it."

Dumbledore's expression became more serious, "I fear I know the way this line of questioning is heading, and while I will grant your request, I would ask you remove your wand and sit down so we may discuss this better." Ron nodded once, and lowered his wand just enough it was no longer threatening, but remained standing and at the ready to react should the need arise.

The old man across from him sighed, "I see you're not to be dissuaded so easily. So be it. What you ask is better put as how is it possible that our magic, or that of the time turner, is capable of changing the world around you so as to visit the past?" Waving his hand, a rubber sheet appeared in the air, stretched to it's maximum, and on his desk were three balls of different sizes.

"Let me ask you Mr. Weasly, let's say I drop one of these balls onto the sheet." Dumbledore waved a hand and the medium sized ball landed on the sheet, deforming it. "Now, let us call this an event in time. If I were to take this small ball here and placed it on the sheet, what might happen?"

Dumbledore let the ball float over so it landed in Ron's free hand, and he frowned looking down at it. "I suppose," he started, "that it would roll towards the other ball, seeing as the sheet leads down into it. So I guess that what you mean to say is we're destined to reach this event?" Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling, "Indeed. Five points to Gryffindor. While not difficult to grasp, that is the premise of destiny and prophecy. Many different roads lead to that end point, but we still roll inexorably forward."

Gesturing to the ball, Ron let it go onto the sheet, and it made it's way to rest by the other ball. "Now, to relate this to the magic you speak of, a time turner does little to alter the time you see, which in this case is the sheet. You may think of it as making the small ball move again once it has already reached an event." Lifting his wand from his desk, he made the small ball roll in different patterns around the other one, "As you can see, this causes small ripples, and eventually the main event will move some small degree, but we essentially have the same world we began with."

Ron nodded, wondering where this was leading, "And how does that help then professor? I see another ball, therefore I am going to have to ask you to get on with whatever else there is to tell me, as I am not in the mood for games."

Dumbledore sighed, "What you propose to do is something much more drastic." Pointing his wand at the ball, the headmaster made it float until it was just above the sheet in another location. Letting his magic stop, the ball dropped onto the sheet, causing it to bend before breaking through the rubber and slamming into the floor. The other two balls, having lost their support, began to roll towards the tear before joining the other ball on the floor.

"You, Mr Weasly," Dumbledore said quietly, "intend to destroy time as we know it, and then reform it in a way that meets your fancy. Not only is that danger ous to you, but there is little telling what it could do to everyone else. I will be honest, I have thought these sorts of things through very carefully. The chances are good it would cause no lasting harm, aside from the person in the past having to absorb your thoughts and memories, but is it worth such a risk? Who were we, to be made gods to gamble with the lives of others so casually? I learned my lesson in trying to manipulating Harry, even with the best intentions at heart, and I cannot condone what you wish to do."

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair before falling back heavily into a padded arm chair. "Professor," he said, "may I ask you another question?" Dumbledore smiled, "Pardon my being informal, but yes you may, Ron."

"When was the last time you lived for what you wanted to live for?" He looked up to see the sad look on his old headmaster's face, and he knew the answer before the man could form any words. "I thought so," he said. "I know I shouldn't be saying this, as I had an alright childhood. I know you and Harry had your problems growing up, so excuse my presumption, but why live? Being noble and helping someone is a wonderful cause to devote your life to, but it can't be everything."

Ron stood up, and stood in front of the bookcase, staring at the books' spines for a moment, swallowing hard to keep control over his voice. "After Hermione passed on," Ron said quietly, "I sort of began to study the muggle world, ya know? I came across a lot of interesting things, but some of the most amazing bits of their culture were the stories they tell each other. Choose your format, television, written word, song, dance, it doesn't matter, they thrive on passing on such things to one another. When was the last time you heard fanciful stories of magic and morals and heroic deeds inside of a tales we tell our magical children? Mostly we stick to real people, like you and Harry, but the two of you are the sorts of people who are few and far between."

"As I kept studying these stories, I began to read a lot of different things, and do you know what I found Professor" Dumbledore shook his head, and Ron turned to face him fully, "People like you and Harry, while great people, are not the best sort of hero one could wish for. Where is the people's hero who understands what it is like to understand the importance of family, if you come from a home like Harry did? You still fight and give it your all, but how much more conviction might he have had if he had forged ahead to make his own family? To understand how important it is to a child to have a mothers touch. Desiring it is one thing, and quite reasonable to fight to protect it, but to know the tender caress is something wholly different."

Dumbledore looked ready to argue, but Ron held a hand up to stop him, "Maybe not the strongest argument, I agree. I merely wished to point out that it is important to reinforce the reasons to fight, and sometimes you need to take every chance you have to live for yourself, even at some minor expense to. Let me put it another way, though. If you were to travel around the world, and at each place you went to a man asked you for something, knowing they could fool you out of everything you own, what might happen to you eventually?"

"I suppose I would find myself penniless and without a means to support myself," the headmaster said.

Ron nodded, "Yeah, there is that. Alone and without anything for yourself, what should happen if you find yourself stranded, and say a blizzard is coming? You would freeze to death because you were foolish enough to give to the point you could no longer care for yourself. You would have satisfied the needs of a small few, compared to the many you could have helped in a lifetime had you just said 'No, I need this for myself' on occasion."

Dumbledore gazed out at Ron for a long moment over his spectacles, "I should think that if Ms. Granger were here, she would be quite proud of the maturity and logic with which you used to argue your point, Ron."

Ron felt his cheeks flush a bit, "Yeah, well, when life has thrown the kind of quaffles at you that it has at me, you learn to grow up a bit." Dumbledore nodded, "I suspect it would. I fear I find myself growing stubborn in my old age, Ron, and find it difficult to accept views different from mine, but you have forced me to accept your argument in part. Why is it that I should help you with this venture though? What places the life of Harry and your friends, which I assure you are quite important none the less, over those of every other person?"

He shrugged, "I can't give you a clear cut morally sound reason, professor. I'm sorry if that's what you wish from me, but all I can say is this. A lot of people died in our sixth year. There were nightly raids, and Harry had to suffer through nearly every single one of them nightly. He was just starting to find happiness with my sister when the events took place that became the downfall of everyone you and I cared about, and that includes Harry losing his mind. He lived a half existence here, just sort of existing without really being tuned in, ya know?"

"We have a way to fix that though. We have a chance to bring back all those lives lost. Half of our magical world died in Voldemort's raids. He didn't let the boundaries of country or oceans stop his reign of terror. The only person who could stop him was forced to experience what I can only imagine was the most horrifying things anyone could ever have to live through. And he did it to save those that remained. They owe HIM something now, the muggles included. And you can't tell me that you didn't love him in your own way. We all did, anyone on the side of light cared for Harry in one way or another. We owe it to him to do this, and we owe it to ourself. As I said, saying 'I come first' is exactly what you need to do in order to help more people at times. Besides, you said there is relatively low risk for the damage to spread, and you are one of the most brilliant wizards alive, maybe there is a reason you're here right now. Maybe that's just the way we're supposed to head in time, towards the moment where you were destined to do one of the biggest acts of magic known to man, and let me go back to fix what went wrong."

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he seemed to process everything Ron had said.

"I think," Dumbledore said slowly, causing Ron to sit straighter in his chair, "I was incorrect in my earlier assessment of you. Everyone would have been proud of the young man you have become. Perhaps you are right, maybe at the end of my life, it is time I do just this one selfish act for myself, and for the boy I saw as the son I never was graced to have. I suspect that if anyone can guide him through the difficult times to come, it will be you, Mr. Weasly. I will do it, but remember, there are many preparations to be made, so I must ask you to have some patience with me. As well, we must talk of a few things, for I fear without the outcome of the war to temper my pride down, I will be a most difficult person to handle in the past if not approached properly."

Ron nodded, "I can live with that professor. After all, we have all the time in the world, don't we?"

Dumbledore smiled at him, and they began to lay out a framework of the weeks to come.

XxXxXx

Ron watched as Dumbledore continued to burn runes into the ground around the area of stone henge. Smiling to himself, he studied the runes and enjoyed the thought that for the first time, he would have the chance to take the introductory classes that Hogwarts offered in the subject. He had never grown interested in things like studying, but somehow the thought of something as mundane as that filled him with giddiness. Maybe he would even go the full mile and take Arithmancy, just because he could, and it wouldn't hurt to get on Hermione's good side for a change from how the early years had happened originally.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on pouring more magic into the stones around him. He hadn't been too surprised when Dumbledore had explained that this site had been used for the focus of magic rituals back in the days before Merlin, when magic had been weaker in humans than it was now. The whole explanation he had been given escaped him, but he just accepted it as one of those things that he didn't really need to understand. As long as he could use it to his advantage, that was more than enough for him at the moment.

Pointing his wand at the final stone, he began to fill it with the remaining portion of needed magic, before making sure he had distributed it evenly over each stone. Finishing his work, he saw that Dumbledore too was nearly done with the truly hard part of the work. A few minutes later the old man walked over to him, grinning as he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. "Reminds me of when I was a boy," the headmaster said, "trying out some new sort of spell. Of course, I was able to spring back a bit faster, but let us just say that expertise makes up for my long lost youth, shall we?" His eyes twinkled, and Ron felt himself smile, getting more used to the reaction.

Part of the past few weeks had been used to help Ron cope better with everything he had been forced to live through. Though the first part had been difficult, and involved much crying, anger, and quite a selection of curse words at Dumbledore for making him admit to every doubt, worry, and fear he had, he knew it was important. He was going to be essentially forcing himself on his younger mind, and to go in with such a bad outlook on life would do little good in the future. So he had been forced to lay many of his old demons to rest. He was far from being healed, and he doubted he ever would be, but now he could go with a clearer conscience, knowing he wouldn't be making this as hard as it could be on what would be the conglomeration of his younger and older self.

"Well, best we do this at our best, so I have brought us lunch," Dumbledore said with a large smile on his face, and snapped. causing a large basket to appear. As they sat down to eat, they reviewed the plans they had made, and Dumbledore quizzed him briefly on his part of the spell.

After they had eaten their fill and were sure that they were prepared for the taxing spell before them, Ron took his place in the center of the stone monuments. To the direct north, standing between two arches stood Dumbledore. All around them glowed runes and stone, and made Ron's skin crawl as the magic rolled across him. He nodded to the old man, and they both began to chant the spell at the same time, their wands working together to gather magic around them.

Ron closed his eyes, and imagined his magic as a very dense ball, to which he kept adding more magic. He lacked the control to add direction to the spell, and instead he trusted Dumbledore to ensure that he would arrive safely in the summer before his first year of school. His job was to create the tear in time through which he would travel. The denser his magic, the more time would bend, and he focused hard on making it dense enough to work. He could feel Dumbledores subtle manipulations of his magic to change it into the needed spell, but ignored that.

Close to an hour later, he felt the change in the magic around him, and cut off his own magic to the spell a moment before it took control. They had expected this. The magic had run away from them, and now it would cascade into the final spell they needed of it's own accord.

Ron grinned, opening his eyes to wait out the final moment before the spell took completion, only to see Dumbledore still locked in the magic, an intense look of concentration on his face. "DUMBLEDORE!" As he shouted, the other man opened his eyes, and gave him a soft smile, "I know what I am doing, Mr. Weasly. Don't worry, I am listening to your advice and doing what I want. I will not let this run wild and ruin the world Harry created here for us."

"But you'll die," Ron argued, and he could see Dumbledore smile. "I'm very old Ron. Very old. I feel my time would be measured in months even should I survive this casting. If I am to go, then let it be with one last great act, to bring with me a tale to the afterlife that I can tell with pride to all who'll listen. A tale of how I gave two boys I have to come to see as sons a second chance in life. Now go, I do believe you're friends are waiting." Dumbledore smiled, and nodded just as the gateway opened before him.

Looking between the gate and Dumbledore, he felt himself torn. He knew the right choice was to step through the gate, but it felt wrong to leave Dumbledore here to clean up his mess. "Ron," Dumbledore said softly, "you said yourself that sometimes there is no easy moral decision to make. I do this with full knowledge of my actions, so go and fix those things that only you are lucky enough to make amends to."

Ron swallowed past a large clot in his throat and nodded, "I'll send Harry your love." Dumbledore gave him a smile with the brightest twinkle in his eyes Ron had ever seen, and then stepped through the gate, losing himself to the feeling of eternity.

XxXxXx

Twelve Years Prior

Ron tossed and turned in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable position on the matress, and a part of his mind whispered to him it was due to the fact he was used to sleeping on a bed in the teacher's quarters of Hogwarts. But he had never been to Hogwarts, let alone the teachers portion of the castle, so that was an odd thought. Definitely one that was influenced by a lack of sleep. After all, who would want to be up at six in the morning under their own power?

"_You are_," a familiar sounding voice said, "_at least, you used to be, in one sense of the word_."

Ron shot up out of his bed, whirling around to look at what was going on, and wondering if he should try to reach for the old wand he had been given for the upcoming school year. It wasn't like he knew what to do with it, but maybe it would come in handy in scaring this person off.

"_Oh, come off of it Ron. Now sit down so we can talk. I know this is strange for you, but maybe you'll trust me more if I remind you that I know how you pulled that prank on the twins a few weeks ago?"_

Ron blinked, "How do you know that? Everyone thinks it was Ginny who got even with that souporglu stuff in their underwear." The voice laughed, "_Right, about that. Watch out. They'll figure it out soon enough if you don't get rid of the bottle from under your bed. Now sit, enough of this silly talk, this is important."_

Ron sat down numbly, not sure why he was listening to this odd disembodied voice. "Okay," he said, "now what?"

"_Now you listen. I have to tell you some things you will like and some things you definitely will not. To begin with though, I should explain what I am doing. You know plenty about magic thanks to your family, right?"_

Ron nodded. "_Good,"_ the voice said, _"Now, I'm sure along the way you've heard of a time turner. I won't go into details exactly what I did, but some pretty powerful magic was used to control time, and you we part of the casting of it, along with the greatest wizard of both of our times, Albus Dumbledore. I guess you could call me the memories of a you that existed over a decade from now."_

Ron's eyes widened, "Sweeeet. I get that good that I can work with him?! I've heard all sorts of things about him, I even have a bunch of his chocolate card frogs, do I get to be on one of those too?!" Ron heard a sigh, though it was laced with some laughter, "_Well, what you did definitely deserved a chocolate frog. But a lot of the work for the time spell was done by Albus, though you did your fair part, so don't feel cheated. Nevertheless, we had intended to send my consciousness back to merge with yours, and while Albus counciled this might happen too, it wasn't what I was expecting."_

He nodded, listening to what the voice had to say, slowly turning over what he said in his head. An older version of himself had used some pretty powerful magic to send his thoughts back in time, and now he was talking to him about it. Thinking about it a few times, something clicked, and he felt his anger begin to burn bright and hot. "Wait! So you tried to take over my mind?!" He shouted.

"_Don't yell! I don't want you to be found out, damn it. Think what you want to say, at least. And no, that's not what I was hoping for. I worried a lot about what would happen exactly, to be honest. It was a possibility I would take over completely, and trust me, I didn't want that to happen. But it wasn't very likely. Honestly, I'm happiest with this solution. I'll probably even fade in time, so I am no longer so dominant in your mind, though that's only a guess. You'll have to speak to Albus for a better theory."_

'I still don't trust you,' Ron thought to himself, 'you wanted to take me over, what kind of sick thing to do is that!'

"_I forgot how stubborn I could be at this age," _the voice said with a bit of frustration. "L_ook. I am going to show you something that will hopefully prove to you that I did this for a reason at the very least, okay? You will be unable to see most of it, and don't even ask what happens in those portions of my memory. There are some things you will never want to see, and that is one of them. Now, I need you to trust me at least a small amount to try something, can you do that?"_

Ron didn't really trust the voice much, but saw little way out of what was happening, so he nodded. A moment later he felt his jaw clamp shut, and as much as he tried to open his mouth, he couldn't. Before he could panic, the voice was speaking to him again. "_Don't worry. I expect you'll want to scream a bit seeing this. I am trying to spare you the worst parts, but it is still pretty bad. I need to understand though, so let's get this Quidditch game underway, shall we?"_

Ron felt himself blacking out for a moment, and as the feeling passed, he was looking up at a monster. The man had pale white skin, and sunken red eyes that seemed to glow as they bore into him as it smirked. All around him was a ring of blackness that he couldn't see into, though on occasion he could see men and women standing in black capes with white masks as they darted in and out of the memory. The worst part though was the boy in the center of the ring. He looked like he had been hurt really bad for a long time, and his bright green eyes were dull, which made him look slightly insane.

Despite the mounting horror he himself felt, he could feel an anger in the body he inhabited, and he saw an arm rise up holding a wand. Just below the wrist was the scar he had gotten when he was seven years old, and he could see the red hair in the corner of his vision. Somehow the thought that it was really him standing in front of that monster like man made him suddenly unable to control his panic, but there was nothing he could do to stop the memory. He sat there watching himself fight the creature his memory kept taunting, calling him Tom, and even once Voldemort. Standing before him was the monster that invaded his nightmares, and it was worse than he had ever imagined.

Eventually his older self had gotten caught in what was some kind of curse that made even Ron ache as just the memory crossed over to him. Eventually he saw the other boy move, and when he did, the scar on his forehead became clear, and Ron gasped as the real Harry Potter stood up and slew Voldemort, ending the memory.

As he came back to himself, he felt how hoarse his throat felt, and he knew he had been trying to scream as he was forced to watch that memory. Ron couldn't help it, and began to cry. Letting big tears run down his face as he shook from the force of his sobs.

"_I'm not one to be comforting people," _the older Ron said, "_but that was the end of it. I left off the worst of it as well. A lot of bad things happen, and eventually that boy you saw will kill himself.__ Driven mad by losing everyone he cared for except for you, and overexposure to the cruciatus curse. That snake hurt him so bad that he couldn't see any reason left to live. And that was only one person. He did that to hundreds and hundreds of wizards, and an untold number of muggles. Do you see now why I came back?"_

Ron couldn't stop shaking, 'How did you fight against that thing? That thing wasn't human! All I wanted to do was go hide, yet you were so brave.'

_"It's not that I was brave and you're not,"_ the voice explained, _"it's that I've come to terms with how to handle my fear. That man did a lot of things to hurt me, us, as well. He took away a lot of important people to me, and one in particular I will never be able to get back. I guess you would see it in terms of Voldemort,"_ Ron winced at the name, and he felt a brief sense of displeasure from his other self. _"Don't do that. I had to grow out of that before I was able to do anything worth a damn, so I won't have you continue acting that way. Now, I was saying at your age you can see him as a bully. He's a big tough one, but if you never stand up to him, nothing will get done about it. Besides, I had the Weasly temper to help me until Harry could do the rest."_

_"Now, I know I am going to make some hard requests on you, but I think you'll find a lot of the things I want to change to be pretty agreeable. The hardest part is we need to work on your temper. I am not going to lecture you like an adult, because you and I are the same person, and I remember what it was like for you at that age, but we need to curb it a bit. It caused a lot of problems. Mostly I will not try to change you, just give advice here and there, and make sure we can change what happens in the future. Is that okay with you?"_

Ron nodded, 'I guess so. You're only trying to help people, and Mum and Dad always want us to do the right thing. You know this is sort of odd though, right?'

The voice laughed,_ "Good thing to see I still have the Gryffindor spirit. But you have no idea how odd it is for me. I get to play Jimney Cricket to my eleven year old self, when I'm a cranky Auror with a penchant for swearing and getting depressed. How fun."_

Ron's eyes widened, "I get to be an Auror! SWEET!" He half yelled again.

"_Yes, that's all great and all, but do me a favor and not tell half the world in the middle of your little mood swings? Now, what day is it?"_

"Saturday, why?" Ron asked.

"_I mean the day of the year," _Ron's older self said, "_I have something I need you to do to get things off to the right start."_

"Ummmm, okay." Ron got out of bed and checked around the mess near his desk, pulling out a small wizarding calendar he had gotten for his birthday two years ago. On the front was the date July 31st, and information about important events from before the roman empire flashed across it. "_So, seems like Albus was spot on with the day," _his alter ego said, "_shouldn't be surprised. Now, I need you to go downstairs and get Mum to take you Diagon Ally. All you need to do is tell her this..."_

A moment later Ron was running down the stairs, and poked his head around the corner to see his mom making a fry up for breakfast. Ron suddenly got nervous about what he had to do, knowing he was going to be giving the twins pranking rights on him for the rest of summer if they heard him. But the image of what he had seen earlier made him stand a bit straighter, knowing that the voice of his older self obviously had some reason for this.

"Mum," he started, and Molly turned around, staring down at him. "Mum, you know how I'm starting Hogwarts next term, right?"

She smiled down at him, "Yes dear. I seem to remember telling you how proud we are of you quite a few times over the past weeks. Is something wrong?"

Ron looked down and scuffed his shoes together, "Well, I know you're busy and all, but I was hoping we could go today to get at least some of my school supplies. I know you wanted to go next week, but um, I'm worried about how I'll do there. I kind of want to get a headstart, you know?" Ron could feel his cheeks flush under the proud look his mum was giving him, even though he reblled at the thought of actually studying over summer holidays. If anyone heard him, he would never live it down, but the voice was right, since it seemed to be a better argument against the matriarch of their family, because she seemed thoughtful.

"I do have some free time as soon as I finish this, but Ron, most of the things we're going to reuse from your brothers. So if you want to study, I can go get them for you now dear." Ron started to nod, but stopped when he heard his older self curse.

"_We need to go to Diagon Ally today. Tell her that you want to pick up some extra reading material, and that you'll use what you saved up from helping the Lovegoods clean up last summer. Or was it the summer before last? Either way, just do it. And stop moaning about your bloody pocket change. This is more important than some extra sickles. If you do it, I'll even help you find a book I know you'll love."_ Ron nodded, and took a deep breath.

"But Mum-," he asked, and she shook herself, breaking out of her thoughts to look down at him again, "there are some books I've heard about I want to find. Ya know, for extra reading and stuff. I also think I need a day away from the twins, so please? I promise to be good. I have some money saved up, so it's not that bad."

Molly frowned but took off her apron and sighed. "All right, Ronald. Just go get dressed properly and come down to eat. I'll take you to Diagon Ally after we've eaten."

Ron grinned, and ran upstairs to do as she asked, making his way back down to tuck into his meal. The voice in his head had grown pretty quiet, though, and he could vaguely feel it's presence shifting in his head, like it was uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with you," Ron asked.

"_I missed her. She may drive us barmy at times, but you know you're lucky to have a mother as caring as her, right?" _Ron ducked his head, feeling his cheeks redden, and he avoided the odd stares of his brothers, 'She's kind of bossy, and never let's us go anywhere,' he thought at the voice.

"_Do you remember your uncles, Gideon and Fabian? The ones killed in the first reign of Voldemort?"_ Ron shook his head to show he didn't.

"_Exactly. She just wants to keep you safe. I still find her a bit tiring as well, but she means well, so don't forget it. I don't expect you'll understand until you get a bit older, and hopefully it won't take living through what I did to see it." _Ron kept eating his food, though even his appetite was a bit slowed by the uncomfortably deep thoughts his older self kept pushing on him.

Ron looked up when he felt someone poke his arm with a fork, and he jumped, spinning to face a grinning Ginny. His siter stabbed a sausage from his plate, eating it before he could complain. "What's wrong with you Ron?" She asked, "Normally you'd be on your fourth helping, and I know for a fact that's only your second."

"Just thinking," he said, and his sister looked skeptical. "Mum's taking me with her to Diagon Ally today, guess I got distracted." Ginny still didn't look convinced by his lie, but she leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Let me come with you."

Ron stiffened, "No way! I need to do some stuff, and I don't want you getting in the way," he whispered back furiously.

"_Actually, she should probably come too. Besides, you're not going to win this argument, mate."_ The voice said to him, and Ron ignored it. Ginny's eyes narrowed, "Oh really? Should I tell the twins who really put the superglue in their shorts? Because while they may be scared to prank me back, I don't think you would be quite as safe anymore."

Ron stared at her in abject horror, and he mentally cursed the voice laughing in his head telling him he had told him he wouldn't win. "Fine," he said, "anything but letting those two know it was me, please."

Ginny smirked at him, and took a piece of toast from his plate before sitting back and engaging the two pranksters in idle conversation.

The rest of breakfast was as entertaining as always, and the twins seemed to be on their best behavior, judging by the fact that Percy's plate had only tried to bite him once. As their brothers got ready to spend the day however it was they did without prank victims around, he and Ginny stood by the floo until their mom was ready to leave.

Taking a pinch of floo powder, Ron went first, "Leaky Cauldron," he said, stepping into the whirling floo network. A moment later, he stumbled out onto the floor of the back room of the small London pub. Moving out of the way, his sister and mother followed shortly after before Molly whisked them to the back alley and opened the way to the magical street for them.

'So,' Ron thought to himself, 'what is it you wanted me to get anyways? Some dusty old books won't help much right? Why don't we go to this one shop I saw before. They sell stuff for Aurors, so you could teach me how to use them, right?'

The voice sighed, "_You wouldn't know how to even hold half the things in those shops. And besides, __that stuff is__ useless junk anyways. You'll meet people at hogwarts who will show you that a book can come in handy, shocking as it is to hear that. But we're here to meet someone. So just go into that used book store, grab a few things I tell you to, then stall for time. I'll let you know when it's time to do something different."_

Ron frowned, but didn't argue. If he was going to have an Auror in his head, then he might as well listen to what he said. The voice obviously knew what he was talking about, even if he didn't care for the idea of actually being willing to enter a book store.

He followed his mom past a group of children near his own age standing on front of Quality Quidditch, and he had to fight the urge to run over there as his mother drew further ahead.

Ron entered the old bookstore, and instantly broke off from his mother, wanting to experience a small amount of freedom by exploring the back shelves by himself. As he passed shelves, he received a running commentary about the various types of magic and how useful they were to him as an Auror. The deeper he went into the store, the more ecotetic the books became, and even his older self was confused by some of the titles. Ron felt his appreciation growing for the books after hearing of some of the things he could learn in them.

Eventually Ron worked his way back up towards the front of the store, grabbing a ratty old edition of some training excercises for Aurors his older self had said he would love, as well as a book on basic charms and transfiguration. Making his way to the front to pay, he saw an orange book sticking out underneath a pile of quidditch related texts. Fishing it out, Ron grinned widely, and for the first time he and the older voice agreed completely on something, and he placed 'Flying with the Chudley Cannons' into his basket. He wasn't sure why a brand new, and bloody brilliant, book like that was so cheap, but that just made it all the better for him.

Making his way to the counter, he payed the man, handing over almost all of his sickles to pay for his books while his mother wasn't looking. The clerk smiled at him and shrunk them so he could carry them in his pocket before he made his way over to where Ginny was thumbing through a book on hexes and curses.

"You know," he said, "mom wouldn't like it if she saw you looking at that." Ron grinned conspiratorily at her, and she smacked his arm, "Prat. I just wanted to see if I could find a hex Bill taught me. Supposedly it does this wicked thing with bats and someone's bogeys. I can't wait to try it out, but I still am too young Mum says."

Ginny frowned, and Ron just scratched his head, not sure what to say. "Well, maybe next year? Until then we'll just have to stand against the twins with more normal means."

His sister gave him an evil smile, "You mean I prank them and you get blamed for it? I like that arrangement." Ron spluttered, "Hey! That's--"

He was cut off by the return of his mom, and Ginny quickly shelved the book. "Come one you two, we should get back to the Burrow. I am hoping to start on some cleaning before the day get's on much longer. Do you have everything Ronald?"

Ron nodded, and Molly began to lead them out of the building when he remembered what he had been asked to do. He was about to try and ask if they could stay just a little longer when his mum bumped into what had to be the largest man Ron had ever seen. He had to be over eight feet tall, and with the biggest beard he had seen.

The man placed a hand on his mum's shoulders, helping steady her before he looked at her a long moment and grinned widely. "Molly Weasly? Is'at you?"

His mom grinned, and wrapped her arms around the waist of the man, "Hagrid! It's wonderful to see you again! What brings you to Diagon Ally?"

Hagrid grinned widely, "Jus' helpin a new student. Come outta there, Harry. Say hello to the Weasly's. One of tha kindest Wizardin families you'll ever meet." From behind Hagrid stepped a boy about Ron's height, with jet black hair, emerald green eyes, and the scar he had seen in his memories. Ron's eyes widened, and he felt a smug bit of pride from his other personality.

"_Just remember," _it said, _"he may be famous, but think of the memory. He's had anything but an easy life, and look at him now, he looks like a bloody broomstick."_ Ron nodded absently, still staring at the boy as his mom lightly slapped Hagrids arm.

"Enough of your flattery," she said before kneeling down in front of Harry. "I'm Molly Weasly, Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The boy offer his hand out towards his mum, "Harry Potter, ma'am. It's nice to meet you." Ron heard a gasp next to him, and turned to see Ginny completely frozen as a blush started to creep up from the collar of her blouse and stain her cheeks red.

Ron was about to make a joke when he felt Harry's eyes move towards him, so he turned to face the other boy. "Name's Ron. Nice to meet you mate. I've heard alot about you, is it true what they say about you know who?"

Ron felt the voice in his head sigh, and he wondered what he had done wrong. Harry looked down at the ground, not answering and looking incredibly embarassed about something. His mom turned on him, "Why Ronald, I never thought you would be so rude."

She turned to Harry, "I apologize for Ronald here, Harry. You're name is rather well known, and he sometimes doesn't think before he speaks." Harry nodded, and Ron felt his blush begin and spread as far as his ears. He looked down at the ground as well, "I'm sorry there, Harry. I guess that kind of slipped out."

Seeing a hand fill his vision, he looked up to see Harry smiling at him a bit, offering his hand as well. "It's fine," he said, "I guess I would be curious too if I were you. No harm done, yeah?"

Ron grinned, and grasped the other boys forearm, and they shook. He was about to ask a question when he felt someone touch his back, and he saw Ginny hiding behind him. "What's wrong Ginny? You're not acting like yourself." Ron jumped when she pinched him, and he turned around to glare at her.

Realizing she was now without cover, Ginny stood there, cheeks deep crimson and staring at the ground. Harry looked at Ron, and he shrugged, "She's usually pretty fiesty. Don't ask me."

His mum placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder, but smiled at Harry. "Don't mind her dear. I think she is just a bit surprised. She used to love hearing stories about you."

"Muuuuuum," Ginny whined, and Harry scratched his head, looking pretty embarassed by everything. "Well then, why don't you say hello properly dear."

Ginny looked like she had been told to go in front of a firing squad, her whole body stiffened, and it was only with a gentle push from mum that got her moving at all. She held out an arm straight out from her body, and Harry took it lightly, shaking it and looking unsure of what to do. "Ginny," she said before stepping back and hiding behind mum again.

His mother looked between Ginny and Harry, and the voice inside of Ron's head seemed to find something incredibly funny about the exchange. 'What,' he thought at it, and he could hear the laughter die a bit.

"_Don't worry. You'll understand eventually, took me bloody well long enough. It's a damn good thing I came back, I haven't laughed this much in a long time. But on to business. You see that Owl Harry has? Why don't you offer to write him. I bet you would find somethings to talk about. I get the feeling that once Harry learns of Quidditch, he'll be a pretty good flyer, so maybe you'll have something to chat about."_

Ron got the feeling there was more that the voice wasn't telling him, but he had accepted that there would be a few things that his older self would try to push on him to improve things. He wasn't dumb, and he recognized that he obviously wanted him to become friends with the boy who lived. Normally he might rebel at the thought of being told who to be friendly with, but somehow he didn't mind it now, and he guessed that was probably part of the reason his older self had made him meet Harry before asking this.

"Umm," he said, interrupting the farewells his mother and Hagrid had begun to exchange. "I couldn't help but notice you have an owl there, do you mind if I write you or something? It'd be nice to have a friend my own age besides Ginny here."

Harry looked at him oddly for a moment, like he wasn't sure what to make of the request. If anything, he seemed to be shocked at the thought, and Ron wondered what was so strange about trying to make a new friend. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing, and hoped he hadn't bolloxed it.

"Yeah," Harry said as a smile grew on his face, his eyes twinkling, "I'd like that, Ron." A moment later Harry and Hagrid began to walk away, and Molly turned to face him, before kneeling down and engulfing him in a hug that left him gasping.

"Geeze mum, not in public!" He shouted as she released him, but she ignored him as she wiped at her eyes, "You were just very mature Ron, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. How about we stop for ice cream before we go home?"

Ron smiled, but then stopped as something hit him. "I feel kind of bad getting something like that after meeting Harry. Did you look at him mum? He was a right mess."

She frowned, "Indeed. I think I'm going to have to ask your headmaster a few questions later. But that's no reason you shouldn't be rewarded for what you've done. Now come along."

Ron followed after her, and he couldn't help but feel a bit good about himself after receiving her praise. He also couln't help feeling good about how proud of him his older self was.

XxXxXx

**A/N:**

I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter. I assure you, I have some ideas for the plot that will explore some very different possibilities for the Harry Potter world. I do not care for stories where the knowledge of the future gives the character an unfair advantage, as that seems to stack the odds in favor of the hero too easily. The voice, which will receive it's own name soon enough, will not hold him by the nose in order to solve every problem. Besides, after the first big change, his knowledge of the future will be of very little good to him.

Please do review. I appreciate the feedback, as it tells me what I can improve. I do not mind negative comments, so long as they are constructive. Also, if anyone cares to beta this story, it is very much appreciated. I borrowed the services of my beta for another story, Falconrok5, and owe him greatly for his assistance. However, I do not want to place too much work on his plate. So anyone who can help me with this story is quite welcome.

Now, I hope everyone has a safe few days. The next chapter is well on it's way to being posted, so I hope to see you again soon.


	2. Train Rides and Dirty Old Hats

Hello, and welcome to the next chapter of 'Voice of Experience.'

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it is much appreciated and makes me enjoy writing even more than I already do.

A quick note then I shall begin the story. To those who have issues with how I refer to the older Ron as 'the voice' or some other term, this is not simply a bad attempt at improving my prose. I see Ron as being the type to not give the voice a new name of some sort, and rather think of it in vague terms. I will be addressing this in the next chapter, however, and things will become clearer, and much easier for me to write.

And with that over with, all rights to those who deserve them first. I am just taking your characters and making them dance to a new tune.

**Voices of Experience: Train Rides and Dirty Old Hats**

Harry leaned so his back was against the wall, turning over a sealed letter in his hands.

He hadn't quite believed the other boy when he had said he wanted to write him. It was still difficult enough to accept that he was a wizard, let alone someone famous. Sure Ron had asked about that at first, but he got the impression that he was actually interested in learning about plain old Harry.

And to Harry, that was an odd thought. It was one thing to accept that he might be popular with people for saving them, but this was something totally different. There was nothing he could do about something that happened when he was a baby. However, now he knew someone who had wanted to be his friend, a friend to a quiet freak that his family didn't want to have around, and that had him grinning madly as he tore open the letter,

' _Hey there, Harry._

_I'm not really sure what I should be saying in one of these things, but I figured it was best to just get Errol used to finding your house or something. The barmy bird gets lost finding places he already knows, so if this is someone other than Harry, sorry!_

_So, I guess I should start. Have you ever heard of Quidditch? Someone told me you were living with muggles, so I figured you might not know, so prepare to be amazed. It's a wizard sport we play, on broomsticks. Not sure if you saw those at Diagon Ally, but they can fly, and the point is to ride around on them while throwing balls, we call them quaffles, into giant hoops, which are guarded by keepers. Chasers do the scoring, beaters hit these right vicious balls called bludgers at people to either stop them from scoring or to protect their teammates. You got the right build for a seeker though. Have to be really quick, they just fly around avoiding getting hit and grab this small golden winged ball called the snitch. I know that's a pretty lousy explanation, but given I hate writing very long, you'll just have to find out when we get to school. Until then, don't let anyone tell you that the Chudley Cannons aren't the best team in the league! _

_So, what about you? What do you do there for fun?_

_Ron._

_P.S. - Ginny is making me say hello for her as well. I don't know what the whole shy routine was about before, she can be downright vicious. _

_She just smacked me for saying that! I swear, if I wasn't constantly getting prodded to let her talk to you, I don't know why I'd bother. Right dangerous she is when she gets her dander up.'_

Harry grinned after reading the letter for the second time. The first and last bit seemed pretty normal, but the handwriting got extremely messy when on the topic of Quidditch, almost to the point of being completely illegible . He got the feeling that Ron was a huge fan, by the way he must have been launching into such a heated explanation. It sounded a bit suspect though. In the muggle world, the idea of throwing balls at high speeds up in the air would be considered a sure sign of insanity.

He wasn't sure who the Chudley Cannons were, either, but at the moment he didn't care. He was feeling so good about the letter he was willing to argue on their behalf that they must be a good team, just because his new friend had stood up for them.

Grabbing a piece of parchment from the school supplies, he sat down at the desk, working on a reply.

' _Hey,_

_Thanks for your letter, I can't tell you how much it means to me. It's my first time too, so ignore any parts that are rubbish. _

_About Quidditch...'_

Harry kept writing for awhile, sometimes revising what he said, until he had a complete and rather hefty letter in front of him. He hadn't meant to say so much, but it had been so fun for him to speak to someone who didn't think he was a freak that he lost himself in writing. He also got to ask a lot of the burning questions about magic, witches and wizards he had been too embarrassed to bother Hagrid about.

Walking over to Hedwig's cage, he opened the door, letting her up onto his shoulder to nibble on his earlobe. Laughing at her antics, he scratched her on the neck before placing her onto his arm, drawing back enough to watch her. "So girl," he said, "I'm not really sure how this is done, but could you deliver a message for me?"

Hedwig gave him a soft hoot, and he got the impression that she had agreed with him. "Thanks," Harry said, "now, how am I supposed to attach this to you? It's kind of large to just tie to your leg."

Hedwig jumped off of his arm, and landed on the corner of his desk, near the supplies he had bought to care for her. On the top of the small pile was a pouch, and he grinned at how perceptive his owl was. Evidentially she was smarter than he was, or better trained, because she had understood exactly what it was he needed.

Walking over, he took the pouch and opened it, briefly wondering how he was supposed to fit his letter in here. Errol had delivered Ron's letter in his talons, but this was obviously slightly different. Sticking a finger into the small bag, he expected to feel the bottom but was surprised when he had been able to slip his arm in up to his forearm before feeling fabric against his fingertips. His eyes widened at the surprising discovery, a silent exclamation working its way out of his mouth as he continued to poke around in the enchanted bag. Grabbing the parchment, he placed the few sheets into it, and then tied it to Hedwig's leg.

"Can you take that to Ron? I'm not really sure where he is though, is that a problem?" Hedwig hooted and landed on his shoulder, nipping his ear affectionately again, and he took that as a sign she would have no problem finding his friend. Walking over to the window, he opened it and let her go, standing there to watch her fly off towards the horizon.

Making his way down the stairs, he had to stop as he turned into the kitchen to avoid running into his uncle. The man was standing there, rage in his eyes and his belt in his hand, and Harry knew that he was in for it now.

"Boy," Vernon said slowly, grinding out the word like it pained him to speak to Harry, "what was that owl doing?"

Harry swallowed, scared of what he was going to have to say. If he lied, the punishment would only be worse. "I was writing to a friend, sir. We use owls to exchange letters, and she needed out to eat."

Before he could say anything, the belt came down, catching Harry across the side, and he could hear Dudley snicker in the next room. "You will NEVER let that bird out again, do you hear me boy?! Enough we have a freak like you, no need for you to drag our good name down with you by announcing your disease to the world!"

Harry bit his lip, knowing this was the time to let his uncle rant, and not to try and stop him to argue. His uncle continued for a few moments, insulting him and his parents, occasionally bringing down the belt across his already bruised side to stress his point.

"I want you in your cupboard! NOW!" Vernon yelled, and dug his fingers into Harry's shoulder, dragging him towards the door leading to the room underneath the stairs.

"But Sir, you already put things in there, I won't fit. And I thought you wanted Hogwarts to see me in a better room?" Harry realized his protests were weak, but he hoped the reminder of the letters would at least instill enough fear in his uncle to change his mind.

Instead, the man turned a deeper shade of purple, and brought his palm up to hit Harry across the head hard, leaving his ears ringing. "Punishment, boy. Even freaks like you should serve time when you've done wrong. Now get in there!" Opening the door, Vernon pushed him in, and Harry, hit his knee against a crate that had been moved into the small space when he had moved out. The door slammed behind him, and he heard the lock set in place, trapping him inside.

Curling up, Harry shut his eyes, pushing out the last few minutes. He had dealt with his uncle's temper enough times; he wasn't going to let it over-shadow how great it felt to have a friend to talk to.

He let himself fall asleep that way, and eventually he heard someone opening the door. The hallway was dark, and his uncle was in his pajamas. "I've locked that filthy creature of yours up. Now get up to your room, and don't let me see you until I call for you, boy!"

Harry nodded, making sure to keep his eyes downcast as his Uncle made his way to his bedroom, and he quietly made his way back to his own room. He could see Hedwig inside of her cage, and he felt anger growing in him at the sight of her. Harry could tell his uncle hadn't been too gentle getting her into the cage, judging by the way she was favoring one of her legs. He also noticed the small combination lock on the door to her cage. Hedwig may have been an owl, but she was also his friend, and he felt the anger grow.

The various broken toys and items around the room began to float as his anger grew, even causing the bed to begin to rattle, and it looked ready to shoot into the air at any moment. Shock, and fear of the repercussions, caused him to lose his anger, and the magic stopped. He had only caused small things to happen in the past when particularly upset, but this anger had eclipsed the relatively minor fear and rage that fueled his magic in the past.

Going to her cage, he placed his hand against the bars, and Hedwig gave a soft hoot, rubbing the top of her head against his palm through the bars, and he got the impression she was forgiving him. "Just hold on a moment, girl," he said, and he crept downstairs and out into the backyard. Grabbing a set of old gardening sheers, he returned to his room.

"Just hold still," Harry said, and Hedwig bobbed her head and remained in place while he secured the cage. Placing one handle of the sheers against his body, he gripped the other end and slowly cut through the small amount of metal holding the lock in place. With a large effort, he finally cut through it, sending himself sprawling back onto the bed. Getting to his feet, he motioned for Hedwig to wait before he went to return the sheers and came back to his room, not wanting to be caught with them.

"I'm sorry girl," Harry said, reaching in to help her off her perch. Sitting down on the bed, he began to stroke her feathers. "You know you're going to have to stay in there during the day, so he doesn't get suspicious. I don't think he'll come in here long enough to check the lock, but best to be safe. I suspect I'll be sending a lot of letters at night, so you'll have plenty of time, okay?"

Hedwig gave a small hoot, and Harry smiled, feeling better than he had in a long time, no matter what had happened earlier today. He was a wizard, going to learn at the school his parents had gone to, and he had his first friend along with an amazing familiar. Maybe life was looking up after all.

XxXxX

(Older Ron)

Ron watched as his younger self worked through his trunk, placing items into it haphazardly as he tried to figure out what he would need for the upcoming school year. He had learned to keep his emotions from bleeding over their link, so he just let himself enjoy the sight. There was something nostalgic about the small act, and he didn't think it was important enough for him to come out of hiding to help the boy. Even if he was trying to help his younger self mature a bit faster than he had originally, it bothered him to step in too often.

After watching him put a bag of stink bombs into his bag for the third time, he began to lose focus on what was happening, letting his mind wander. He had never been very introspective, but this new arrangement was forcing him to spend a great deal of his time alone. He and Ron had begun to speak less often, as he had set the boy on the right track before leaving him to do things on his own. The boy had tried to pry more information out of him from time to time, but after spending an entire day out in the orchard arguing with himself, he had given it up as a poor job and accepted that he wouldn't be given a free ride through life.

Ron ran downstairs to ask their mum something, and he felt the familiar sense of nostalgia looking at her. Last he had seen the matriarch, she had been beaten and broken, body parts missing and dismembered. Each night as Ron slept, he had to struggle against the images that threatened to consume him after seeing his family alive all day long. During the day though, the whirlwind of activity he remembered kept him busy, and though he had no direct interactions with his family, he felt loved just by being there.

"Mom," Ron said, "where did my cauldron go? I can't find it."

Molly wiped her hands on her apron before turning around to face him, "I gave it to your father to clean and scour. He'll have it ready by tomorrow dear, don't worry."

Ron was ready to bother her about something else, but he interrupted him, "_Let her be. She's busy making all of YOUR favorites for dinner. Why don't you go help Ginny?"_ Ron frowned, 'She's the one who chose to go to that muggle grade school. Why should I have to help her? I just let mum home school me,' he thought.

The older Ron fought back a sigh. Sometimes he felt like he was talking to a wall, and he felt sorry for everyone who had tried to get him to do anything against his will when he was younger. "_Because,"_ he said slowly, "_this is the last time you'll see her for a year. Or are you going to be like Percy and just shun her?" _He didn't quite enjoy pulling Percy into a discussion like this, but given the time line he was in, he knew it would work.

Ron turned to look at the table where Ginny was working on her arithmetic, and he was glad to feel that Ron wasn't immediately ready to throw away the idea to help her now. Their sister was going to need as much support as she could get in the next few years. He wasn't going to allow her to write in the diary again, but he also knew that there would be consequences for that. She had been pretty lonely her first year at Hogwarts, and due to his own bloated head, he hadn't made any effort to integrate her into his group of friends. Given her crush on Harry, it would have been hard anyways, and he got the feeling that this Harry was still pretty uncomfortable with her hero worship of him. It had taken some choice words, but he had gotten Ron to send some small messages from Gin, who was too scared to try and send her own letter. He didn't blame her either. Given how Harry was likely to be at this age, that would probably scare him off fast and hard, and he didn't think he could have kept this Ron from blowing up over it yet.

The diary had been a pretty good way of helping Ginny grow comfortable around Harry, though. It had taken a few years, but the events in the chamber had helped to cement her feelings for Harry, as she had once confided to him when Ron had asked about the experience. He was kind of hesitant to mess with that, as they had brought out the best in each other, but he was hoping to bring them together slowly to overcome that hurdle.

Sometimes he couldn't help but feel he was in charge of a large chessboard, where his friends were the pieces, and Voldemort was sitting across from him, sending his death eaters out like so many little pawns.

Ron made his way over to help Ginny, and she gave his younger self a smile in thanks. Occasionally he offered what help he could, but was just content letting them work through it on their own. He didn't want to risk helping Ron advance too quickly, for a variety of reasons. He wasn't going to be around forever. That he was pretty sure of from every discussion he and Dumbledore had about the effect his consciousness would have on his younger body. He also would be dealing with Hermione soon enough, and he knew fooling her would be hard enough until he could trust her with what he knew. Harry was going to be learning of it sooner than their female friend, but he also had to make sure that the boy didn't suspect something was going on during the train ride tomorrow. While Harry wasn't as book smart as Hermione, he was pretty sure it wouldn't be long before his friend started to suspect something wasn't right with his younger self.

After a few hours of work and a couple games of exploding snap, his younger self had gone to bed for the night, anxiously dreaming about the next day. On top of his chest was scabbers, and it took all of the older Ron's patience to keep his temper in check so his younger self didn't catch wind of what the rat really was. He had no doubt that without the help of a trained and reliable auror, the damned rat would find a way to escape if he pushed his luck too soon. So he would have to wait until he had someone older and with a calmer head on their shoulders to help him. It was enough work for him to not let Ron say anything that might get that damned death eater curious about what was going on. He just counted his lucky stars the damned rat hadn't been in his room the night when he merged with Ron, otherwise he might have been forced to take control and act.

It still disturbed him on many levels that his eleven year old self was sleeping the same bed as an old man. Thoughts like that made it all too tempting to use the killing curse on the perverted rat.

Spending his time like that until morning, he mentally prepared himself for the upcoming day. He had much to accomplish, and hopefully it would be the first step in the right direction towards ending this war sooner than anyone could hope for. He didn't have much information to offer, but he did know key figures, and a few key events they could try and avoid or use to their advantage. He didn't know how long it would last past his first big change, and what he had in mind would be huge, but it was a start.

Feeling Ron begin to stir from his sleep at the sounds of activity from downstairs, he shielded his mind from the boy, not wanting him to catch wind of what he was thinking. "_Morning to you. Ready for your first day." _He asked the question in such a way to give the boy a bit of a reminder to get moving, not wanting to wait him out in some drawn out ritual of trying to steal more sleep until his Mum barged in.

The reminder caused the boy's thoughts to briefly flash to the fact he was going to Hogwarts, and he lunged out of bed, rushing into the bathroom to shower. His older self laughed at him, pulling back into his mind to give him some privacy in the loo.

An hour later this younger version of himself was fed and clean, and waiting in the backseat of their car to head on his way to Hogwarts for the first time. He wasn't quite sure what he should make of the experience, having lived through it once himself, but he couldn't help but be caught up in the boy's excitement.

'So,' Ron thought at him, addressing him for the first time in awhile, 'anything I should know about before I get there?'

"_Other than the test where you have to kill a troll with a toothbrush to find out which house you're in? Nothing I can think of, no," _the voice lied easily. Ron froze in the car seat, turning pale before he closed his eyes, focusing on his reply.

'WHAT?!' The older Ron couldn't help it, and started to laugh at the boy, not bothering to keep it from him, which only made him get angrier, his stiff posture and glowering attracting the attention of his siblings.

"All right there, Ron?" Ginny asked, and he nodded, turning to look out the window. 'I thought I would grow up to be more like Bill or Charlie, only I find out I have a sense of humor like the twins. Can I just die now and get it over with?'

"_Now it's not that bad," _he said, trying to help relax the boy,_ "just think of how easy it will make it to prank them back. Mostly though, I was just going to let you sweat it out. I had to wait to find out how we got in, no reason you shouldn't suffer with me."_

Ron frowned, 'Aren't you supposed to be helping me here? I don't like having a voice in my head, even if it is some future version of me, but you could at least make yourself useful or something.'

The older Ron wanted to sigh across their link, but kept strict control of the emotion, "_Do you like being led around by the nose much? Cause if you do, then I must have landed in the wrong Ron Weasley. Didn't know I was too dumb to be anything but a loyal lapdog, made to bark and act on another's whim."_

The words were a bit harsh, but he had intended them to be, and he could feel Ron get angry. No one else had been able to make him see reason when he was in a rage at that age, but he knew the boy better than he did himself, and he wasn't like Hermione and Harry. He may be a bit calmer now, but he would always be a bit hotheaded, and he'd rather tackle the problem head first and risk alienating the boy than to almost definitely bungle it up trying to coax him into things.

'WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?! I'm no one's damn lapdog. My dad always said us Weasley's stand up and aren't made to do anything we don't feel is right, or did yours die before he could teach you that, huh?!'

There was a deadly silence in both of theirs mind as that last barb settled in, and he could feel the boy's regret and dread at what he had said. _"I think,"_ he said slowly, taking all of his control to not snap, _"that we can agree you didn't mean to say that."_ He sent the message slowly; making sure the boy could feel just how much anger there was behind the control. It would have done him good in his younger years to not only be faced with someone who wouldn't let him get off the hook for saying something stupid, but also let him know how angry he could make someone with that temper of his. It also helped that since they were the same person, maybe he would see the difference in control, and try and pick up on it. It had taken him too long, and cost him too many friends and family, to finally learn the lesson that he needed to curb his temper.

Ron nodded, 'Yeah, sorry, it kind of slipped out.'

_"You're not forgiven,"_ he said, ignoring the shock and guilt that he felt when Ron heard that. Instead he continued on, _"I got us into trouble doing just that. Time you started to grow up a bit, especially if you're going to Hogwarts. Now, what I was trying to provoke you into thinking about is that I refuse to have you be my chess piece without a say in things."_

_"I'm going to have you doing some things throughout the year that you'll find difficult, and possible they will be things you don't want to do at all. You know my reasoning, and I won't force you most of the time. But I will try and explain why. I'm not going to make you into some copy of myself. I'll help you, guide you, and be your friend. In return I just ask that you listen and trust me when the time is right, that way when I'm gone you will only be missing the annoying voice in your head, not the thing that got you through your day to day life."_

Ron nodded, and he could feel the acceptance in him. 'Thanks, I guess. I don't like the idea of being controlled, even though I know you would be doing it for the right reasons," he thought.

The older Ron felt relieved that he finally had gotten that point across. _"I'm glad you got it. Now, your family is starting to wonder what is going on, so I recommend you pay more attention to them. And one last thing. Think about how much you would have hurt Harry if you brought up his father like that." _He cut off the link after feeling Ron retreat into his own mind, pondering the question. He didn't feel like getting into a row with Harry in this time line after making a thoughtless comment about his parents, he had done it once in his own, and that was enough for two lifetimes. This time he would make sure that friends weren't lost due to stupid petty arguments, even if he had to beat his younger self down mentally day in and day out until he got it.

XxXxXx

As they pulled in front of the station, Ron looked at the time, noting that they had gotten there earlier than usual. He was itching to get out of the car and into the building, but as usual his dad insisted on finding parking in muggle London, and he resigned himself to his fate as they circled the parking lots.

He could see why his dad wanted to do things the hard way, though. He was always busy at work, and probably wanted to spend as much time as possible with his kids before they went away for a few months. Either he was just showing it more this year as he kept looking back at Ron with a proud smile on his face, or he was thinking too hard about things lately.

Ever since he had been inhabited by the freaky voice of his future self, it had been hard not to think more about life. He knew that even in the wizarding world, it was not a normal thing for someone to hear voices. Let alone ones who had traveled back from the future to try and help you avoid losing your family and people who may end up being your friends someday.

Sometimes he thought of telling someone, but then he would remember the memory that he had been shown. He didn't doubt that it was real; he could feel the emotions from the voice more than it probably cared to admit, it had suffered watching the memory as much as he had, and he didn't doubt it had been able to see what was hidden in those shadows. More than that, he was a bit envious of what he had seen. Despite the fear, there had been an iron core of resolve in that person standing before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he wanted to become like that someday. If sticking with the voice could give him that, then he would make sure to put up with it.

It didn't make it easier though to have a permanent resident in his head who would tell him off when he let his emotions get the better of him. His mum and dad had tried talking to him about that, warning him how he would have to change for school, but their soft words hadn't done the trick.

His older self, though, knew exactly how to get a rise out of him, and how to get him to listen. It didn't back down from his temper, and earlier had showed him that he wouldn't be forgiven for something horrible he might say in anger. It was humbling, and he didn't like the feeling it gave him, but it was enough of a motivation to try and make a start at the whole temper problem he had.

The finally found a spot, and piled out of the car, avoiding the amazed looks muggles were giving them when seven people and various pieces of baggage got out of their small car. Turning to him, his mum beamed, "I'm glad we made it early. Now where did you say we were to meet Harry Ron?"

Ron fished out a parchment from his pocket, opening it and scanning it for the time and place Harry had said. They had been in pretty constant contact by owl, and though it had taken some prodding from the voice of experience, and he had begun to call his older self, and Ginny, he had kept up on it with his end. He had gotten to know the other boy better, and he got the feeling that he didn't have the most fun with his family, though he guessed living with muggles would be downright dull compared to a magical house.

"At the platform, Mum. I made sure to tell him how to get in like you asked, "Ron replied, "but he said he would wait for us on the muggle side. Didn't want to draw too much attention and was hoping we'd be able to help."

Molly smiled widely, "That's a very thoughtful boy. Well, let's hurry then, I feel bad enough that we've left him waiting for so long." She placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, and he had no choice but to go at a half run to keep up, struggling to avoid hitting anyone with his trailing trunk. As they drew closer to the gate, they looked around, scanning the crowd for Harry.

It was Ginny who spotted him first, grabbing their Mum's sleeve and pointing to the corner. Harry was sitting there in the same old clothing that was far too big for him, though much dirtier than they had been before. He was curled up, and though he struck a sad sight, he didn't seem to be minding the wait, his eyes bright as he probably thought about the upcoming term.

"I really do need to visit Albus," his mother said before she shook her head. "Harry!" The call reached him, and he looked up, grinning and made his way over to them. Ginny backed up so she had the rest of the family between them, and though Harry's eyes flickered over to her for a second, Ron felt a bit relieved at how he didn't seem to worry too much about it. For a moment his older self seemed to struggle with some sort of emotion, but forced it down before Ron could try and guess what was going on.

"Hey Ron," Harry said a bit shyly, and Ron scratched his head, unsure what to say. Aside from their letters, this was only the second time they had met. "Yeah...," he replied.

"Aww, Look at them Fred," George said.

"So cute, like two star crossed lovers," Fred agreed.

"Only don't they seem a bit young?" George asked, placing a hand to his chin, trying to look deep in thought.

Fred took a stance like a professor, "Nothing as too early when it comes to love. Sorry Gin-gin, I think Ronnie here has beaten you fair and square." A slight gasp of anger could be heard behind them, and then the twins were hoping around holding their ankle as they tried to stop the pain. Ron's mum just rolled her eyes, obviously letting them get away with Ginny's punishment. Ron looked at Harry, and they both laughed at the twins' antics, the ice broken between them.

Before they could settle in to talk, his Mum directed them towards the gate. "Now dears, it's just a simple matter of timing. Look like you're in a rush to get to the next platform and angle for the wall. I'll let you know when to go. The others have done it before, so we will just let them go on their own first. No rush this year."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, smiling up at her.

"It's no problem dear. When I heard you kept in contact with Ron and Ginny over summer, and even asked about the gate, I was more than happy to help. I'm glad they made such a polite friend." Ron and Ginny flushed at that remark, and Harry looked down at the ground in front of him. His mother though either didn't notice, or pretended not to, and tapped him and Harry on the shoulder. "It's time to go dears. Don't be nervous."

Ron looked at Harry, and they nodded at each other before angling their trunks in the right direction, and started to walk towards the wall quickly, picking up speed. A moment later they were through, with no one the wiser, with his Mum and sister coming through a second later.

Kneeling down, she gave Ron a large hug, kissing his cheek. "I have to go catch up with Arthur and the other boys to say good bye. So please owl your old mother, I worry. And make sure to say good bye properly to your father as well."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, smiling a bit like Ginny did when she had a particularly evil prank in mind, "I'll make sure he writes you." Ron groaned, but couldn't say anything with his Mum there, and she just gave Harry a thankful look before moving on.

"Why'd you have to go do that mate? Now she'll be impossible!" Ron moaned.

Harry grinned, "I know, it sounded like fun. Besides, it's your mum, I think it must be nice to talk to her all the time."

Ron was about to tell him how barmy he was, but stopped himself when he felt a warning flash of anger slip through from his older self. He remembered the earlier conversation and wisely dropped the topic. "Come on then, need to say good bye to Dad. And we shouldn't let you meet the twins, seems like they might see a fellow prankster in you, and if they do, there is no telling what you'll arrive to Hogwarts as."

Ron made a quick goodbye with his father, and he had to make a similar promise to write to him over the term. Finally he and Harry began to move their things onto the train, and he turned to see Ginny hanging back, not going to say goodbye to the others. He walked over to her, "Well, I'll owl you or something, okay Gin?" She nodded, but stayed there, and he looked at where she was staring, and he noticed the same blush on her face as she watched Harry putting his trunk into the luggage compartment.

He was about to tell her off when he was stopped. "_Remember those times I said to do something you wouldn't like? This is one of them. No harm done with getting Harry over here to say goodbye also. May seem strange to you, but I think she liked having a friend near her age that wasn't in the family."_

The voice was reasonable, but he didn't like it, and he thought it knew more than it was saying, but he couldn't argue with it right now. He still felt like a complete git for what he had said earlier, so he just put a hand on Gin's shoulder, "One second."

Ron walked up behind Harry, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. When his friend had turned around, he pointed his thumb back to Ginny, "I think she wants to say goodbye. You mind?" Harry shook his head, though he could see that he seemed a bit nervous about it. He couldn't blame him either, Ginny was acting right weird, and he would be unsure how to handle her either when she started blushing and acting shy for no reason.

Harry made his way to stand in front of her, and Ginny kept her head down, blushing so badly that it reached her forehead and dispelling any chance that it might have been her hair adding the color. "Um," she started, "Thanks for reading what I had Ron send." With that, she ran off, melting into the crowd in the direction of the rest of the Weasleys. Harry looked at him for a moment, and when Ron had no answer just shrugged and went back to his things.

Ron was about to say something when he was cut off. _"Apology accepted for earlier. Now, was that so bad?"_ The older Ron asked, and he scowled, knowing that somehow his other half would be able to tell. 'I don't know what you're playing at. Not sure why she would want to talk to him so much, and you're hiding something from me,' Ron reasoned.

He felt the equivalent of a shrug as a wave of forced indifference bled into him, _"Nothing as of yet. I just know that they become good friends, and let's leave it at that for now. It will be important and make sense to you eventually."_

Ron gave up getting any information as a bad job, and started to get onto the train. Outside his parents and sister were waving, and though he felt a bit embarrassed about it, he waved to them as the train started to move. Picking up speed, he felt a bit nervous for the first time since he had head he made it Hogwarts. Here we was, away from home, and forced to live in the shadows of what his other brothers had accomplished while at the school.

"_Did I say any of your brothers were the ones who got the chance to work with Dumbledore on what is sure to have been one of the greatest spells ever cast?" _The voice asked him, and Ron smiled a bit, feeling a bit surer of himself. He had done something that his brothers could only dream of, and really, it was like the biggest prank ever, so in a way, he knew he had always one upped the twins.

Making his way back to the cabin he had seen Harry get into earlier, he passed the twins as they left, grinning at one another. Inside, Harry was holding some sort of sweet in his hands, examining it closely. He looked up when Ron entered. "Why do I get the feeling that if I eat this, I'm going to do or become something I'll regret," he asked, and Ron grinned, "Because you had me looking out for you in those letters when I told you all about them. You probably want to save that, you can use it on them or something when they least expect it." Harry grinned and nodded once, putting the confectionery in his pocket.

The quickly settled into the compartment, talking about various things they were expecting for the upcoming year when there was a knock at their door. A moment later a small, slightly plump, boy poked his head in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but have either of you seen a toad?" he asked, and Ron frowned. "Can't say I have, why?"

Harry got up and opened the door fully, letting the other student, who seemed like a fellow first year, into the room. "It's my toad, Trevor, he keeps running away." Harry looked thoughtful for a second, "Want some help?" The boy nodded, and Harry looked at Ron. He didn't really feel like searching the train, but since Harry already was going, it would be boring if he just stayed here. "Sure," he said. Harry turned to smile at the boy, "Name is Harry, by the way. That's Ron. Who're you?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he looked pretty embarrassed about forgetting to introduce himself, "Neville," he said quietly. Ron grinned at him, "Well Neville, where did you last see him?"

Neville led them to where he had been sitting before, and after a brief introduction to those he had been sitting with, they started to go to all the compartments near where he had been. Splitting up, they knocked on the different doors, and even though the older students seemed to not be too happy with first years coming into their compartment, they got through most of the places Neville's toad could have been, leaving only two left.

"Thank you so much," Neville said for what had to be the twentieth time in the past few minutes. Ron was struggling with not telling the boy off for getting annoying with his apologies, but Harry seemed to be fine with it, and just smiled like he had every other time. "Why don't you go check the one over there, Neville," Harry said, pointing to the door farthest from him and Ron. "We'll get this one."

Neville shook his head enthusiastically, taking off down the corridor, and Harry turned to Ron. "Come on, he's not that bad. Just a bit shy." Ron laughed, "A bit? I swear, he makes Mum's tomatoes look pale." Harry smiled, and stepped forward to knock on the door to the nearest compartment. A moment later it opened, revealing a lone first year girl, a large textbook hugged to her chest. "What can I do for you two gentlemen?" she sniffed, and Ron's mind shut down for a moment, all the percolated through his shock was an odd tumult of emotions from his older self.

"Sorry to bother you," Harry said, "but we're just trying to help a friend find his toad. It got lost, and we were wondering if it's in your room." She shook her head, bushy hair flying everywhere, "No, I kept the door locked so I could study in peace, it couldn't have gotten in. You can tell they put magic on the door to prevent trespassers once it's been locked and someone is inside," she said, sounding very matter of fact. Harry just nodded slowly, looking like he didn't really follow her, and Ron agreed, his shock dying as he saw they had run across some sort of bookworm. "I'm Hermione Granger by the way," the witch said, "I come from muggles, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't know your names?" She said it in such a way that she left little for them to do but reply.

"Ron," he answered and she nodded, looking at Harry, expecting an answer from him too. "Harry," he replied, and her eyes widened, then darted to his forehead, and saw a portion of his scar through his hair. "Are you Harry Potter?!" Her voice had taken on a slightly shrill tone, and Ron took a step back, worried what she was going to do to Harry if she sounded like that already.

Luckily they were interrupted by a large crashing sound, and Ron turned to see Neville stumble back out of the compartment he had been sent to look in. Before he could say anything, Harry was running towards the scene, and Ron was just a few steps behind him. Standing over Neville was a small first year boy, blond hair greased back as he straightened out what looked to be some heavily embroidered and expensive robes. Behind him were two students who were easily the size of the twins already, and each looked dully at Neville, occasionally snickering at the smaller boy's sniffling.

"_Those bastards. One group of people I had never hoped to see again..." _Ron was about to ask what his older self meant, and who these people were, when the blond looked up, sneering at Ron before locking gazes with Harry. Even though Harry stood there with his hands clenched into fists, and fire in his eyes, the boy seemed unconcerned, his eyes traveling up to see the scar. The bully's eyes widened, but then he fit a big, and obviously fake, smile on, extending a hand out to Harry. "Draco Malfoy," the boy drawled out, but Harry stepped past him, brushing the hand away as he reached down to help Neville up, "All right there, mate?"

Neville nodded, and took a step behind Ron, and he noticed for the first time that Hermione had followed them, looking ready to say something. He wasn't in the mood to listen to her get on her high horse, so he cut in, "I've heard of your family from my dad, you bunch of death eater scum!"

Malfoy turned to sneer at him, "Red hair, tattered robes, you must be a Weasley. Sadly, my father has ruined my appetite at a meal explaining about such an embarrassment to pure bloods. Maybe you would have some more money if your mother didn't always spread..." Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Harry stepped between Malfoy and Ron, and though he couldn't see his friend's face, he guessed it was bad by the way Malfoy flinched. "I wouldn't finish that statement," Harry said.

Draco looked ready to kill for a second, but then his face relaxed and he shrugged, "It's none of my concern. I think I already know you made the wrong choice when it comes to friends, Potter." He turned to go back into his compartment when Neville stepped up, "What about my toad. Please, just give Trevor back!" Ron looked at Neville for explanation, and the boy looked frantically at him, "They were poking him when I came in, nothing too bad, but they were talking about squishing him when I tried to stop them."

Ron felt his own anger merge for a moment with his older self, and followed the instruction he was given, letting the voice take over his magic and arm for a moment. "Accio Trevor! Incarcerous!" he intoned, and a moment later the toad landed gently in Neville's hands, while the three bullies became tied up, wriggling on the ground looking for freedom. He was just about to make a whoop of pride when the drain on his magic hit him, and he went weak kneed, slumping to the ground.

He zoned out for the next few minutes as Harry and Neville dragged him back to their original room, and he perked up when handed a glass of juice. Swallowing it down eagerly, he felt a bit better, and saw that Harry, Neville, and even Hermione were standing there looking at him worried.

"_Sorry about that," _his older self said_, "I may have gotten carried away." _Ron gave the mental equivalent of shaking his head, 'No way! That was awesome, and that prat had it coming, stupid rich git. But those spells were a bit tiring. Is it always that bad?"

_"No,"_ it said,_ "but you're new to controlling your magic. You don't have anywhere near the power most older students have when casting those, so they took a bit out of you. Give it a few years. With me around, you'll know a bunch, but it may take awhile to build up the power to use it all. For now though, you better answer some questions, Hermione looks like she's dying to grill you."_

The voice sounded downright pleased at that, and Ron groaned, not liking the unholy gleam in the girl's eye. "How did you do that," she asked breathlessly, "I know I've read the standard book of spells for the first and second years, and neither of those spells were in there."

"I dunno," Ron said slowly, "someone showed me, just kind of came to mind? Kind of lucky it worked, I guess," he didn't have to feign sounding innocence, and she looked disgusted at how he had pulled off that bit of magic by luck. She was about to say something else when Harry stood up, smiling, "Yeah, you really helped us out there, mate. Right Neville?" The other boy nodded, and Ron's cheeked colored at the compliment. Hermione just shook her head, then looked out of the compartment window. Seeing where the train was, she leaned back in and frowned at them. "It's almost time to get off," she said. "So do get ready. And I expect you'll want to explain what happened when we get to Hogwarts, Ronald, so try to look presentable." With that, she left the compartment, and Ron finally relaxed in his seat. 'Bloody mental, she is,' he thought, and he wondered if the slight feeling of amusement was from his other personality laughing at him.

Neville thanked them again, leaving them alone to get ready, and they slipped into their robes, the physical activity helped Ron to get his bearings again. They sat down to talk again for a few minutes, but neither of them really paid much attention to what was being said, each one imagining what the next few hours would bring.

The train came to a stop, and with a large grin at each other in anticipation of what was going to come next, Ron and Harry raced each other to the platform, a small rickety structure that stood in a gap of the gates of Hogwarts. The train had followed the gates away from the central entrance, and they were standing on the opposite side of the large lake he had heard tons of stories about. Squinting, he thought he could just make out a tentacle from the large squid, and he grinned when it flashed back under the surface.

'It's...amazing,' Ron thought, and he felt a contentment build from his other self. _"And it will be your home for the next few years. Trust me, you'll love it here. Even in the darkest of times, Hogwarts was the light in the dark that everyone fought to protect." _Ron nodded, and made his way to where Hagrid was calling for the first years. He was slightly surprised to see that the two goons with Draco were first years, and when he pointed it out to Harry, the boy shrugged, so he silently thought about learning a hex to get at them. Sadly, while his older self did congratulate him on figuring out some rather inventive ways to use the spells he had sampled earlier, it wasn't forthcoming with any ideas of how he could get better revenge on them for Neville.

After loading into the boats, they made their way up towards the source of a thousand different windows shining soft candle light upon the grounds. Ron just stared in awe, passing as if through a haze as the large man who had introduced him to Harry pushed open the doors to the castle for the first time, revealing his new home to him. All he could think was how bloody brilliant it was.

Standing on the other end of the large entrance hall was an old serious looking woman, who gave Hagrid a very thin lipped smile. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said in a clipped Scottish accent. Hagrid bowed a bit, and with a wave to Harry made his way into the great hall, not opening the door enough to allow them to view in before the woman slammed the door shut.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, and I will be your transfiguration professor for the next seven years, as well as the head of your house should any of you be sorted into Gryffindor. Now, we must sort you before we can get on with the evening, so do follow me, and remain quiet." She took off at a brisk pace, and the shorter children were forced to half jog to keep up with her as she led them through a maze of passageways on the first floor, finally ending at a rather simple door.

Pushing it open, the light blinded them all for a second, but they filed in behind the professor, and found themselves standing at the head of a great hall where all the older students were sitting. To their left was a series of red velvet steps that led up to a table where the professors sat, and he saw at their center was an old man he instantly recognized from his chocolate cards.

'It's Dumbledore...' he thought to his other self, a little bit awed by the man, who seemed to be kindly smiling down at them.

_"Jaw shut, Ron,"_ the voice reminded, _"though he does have that effect on you the first time. Something about him just bleeds power and wisdom. Right creepy first time you see it, I guess. Been a while for me." _

Ron nodded blankly, not really thinking much about it, but the brief discussion made him feel a bit better, and he payed more attention as that Professor McGonagall person placed an old hat on a stool, and pulled out a scroll, though she left it closed for now. "It is now time to be sorted," she said in a highly formal voice which made her sound even colder, "and I turn the floor over to the sorting hat."

After a memorable song from the old hat, Ron nearly laughed in relief when he realized all he had to do was put that thing on to find out what house he would be sorted into. Despite the laughter his other self was making at his reaction, he was more ready to retaliate at the twins. They had made him worried about this moment all summer, and he wanted to get back at them somehow. Slowly though, those thoughts left him as he tried to stand still and wait for everyone to be sorted. Finally a name he knew was called, and he watched Hermione go forward, looking a bit nervous about what was going to happen. He wasn't sure what house she would be put into, but he would guess that she got Ravenclaw. She seemed like such a bookworm that she was right for that house through and through.

_"I bet you're wrong,"_ the voice said. And Ron raised an eyebrow, 'Why would I bet with someone who knows the future?' His older self was quiet for a second, "_Touché'" _it added, _"but I still mean that there is more to her than you know right now. Watch."_

"Gryffindor!" The table where his brothers were sitting erupted in cheers, and the girl looked relieved as she scampered over to take a seat. Ron blinked; he was definitely not expecting that one. He ignored the odd result as other students continued to be sorted. Finally Neville came up, and though it took the hat a moment, he too was put into the same house as Hermione and his family. He didn't really know the boy, but he didn't strike him as being the type full of courage, and would have bet on Hufflepuff for him if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. 'This thing ever wrong?' he asked the older Ron.

"_What do you mean?" _It sounded confused, and he didn't reply as Draco got called, and instantly sorted into Slytherin. "Never mind," he said, and Harry turned to look at him oddly, probably thrown off by the random chuckling Ron had seeing that at least the hat knew where to put the death eater wannabe.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall shouted, and everyone held their breath, Ron included, and Harry slowly made his way up to the stool, putting on the hat. 'I hope we're in the same house,' he thought.

_"What would you do if he was put in Slytherin"_ the voice asked out of nowhere, and Ron froze.

'He won't be,' Ron sent back, sure of that fact. 'They only take dark wizards, and Harry defeated the darkest wizard ever, twice if you include your Harry.'

_"True, but why would being in Slytherin make him dark?"_ it reasoned to him. _"Look, I don't have that much time to explain it, but simply put, is cunning bad? No, it's not. Some of the people in the house are bad, but that doesn't make the traits the house represents reprehensible either. So some people who are good, but ambitious, get put in there, along with the bad. If you don't believe me, talk to Harry, he is the one who set me straight about that when I got older. Now, pay attention."_

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted just as Ron tuned back into what was going on around him, and he wondered what took the hat so long. Still, his friend was with his family, and every Weasley for generations had been sorted into Gryffindor, so he felt pretty good about his chances now.

"Weasley, Ron!" The woman called, and he stepped out from the few remaining students, slamming himself into the chair and pulling the hat down over his head. He felt his older self pull away, and for a moment disappear as the lip of the hat came over his eyes.

"I can see you in there, young man," a voice whispered into his ear. "You're doing an admirable job of hiding all evidence of yourself from me in the young Weasley's mind, but I am designed to see through all. Why not come out for a short chat?"

Ron felt the other personality come out, and he felt like a spectator at a Quidditch match as something unspoken passed between the hat and his inner voice. "_Albus told me you couldn't break through mental shields," _it said, almost sounding as if his older self was sulking.

"You would be right, but when there is much of his mind that is suddenly, and unexplainable blocked from my sight, the clues are easy to piece together. You will have to shield his mind entirely to protect the boy the remainder of the time you wish to stay in secrecy."

Ron could feel a sense of agreement, _"I guess so. You saw my memories when I let down the shields, can we get this over with? It didn't take anywhere near so long to sort me last time, and people will wonder why you didn't just instantly send me to Gryffindor."_

He heard the hat laugh into his ear, "Indeed. You, Ronald, have a very special gift. I dare say it would be in your own interests, and the interests of your friends, to trust this voice of experience explicitly. And seeing as both of you are as Gryffindor as they come..."

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted, and the Gryffindor table erupted in pleased shouting, though he saw his brothers eying him oddly, and he guessed that like his older self had mentioned, the wait had made them edgy. That didn't matter though, and Ron sat in contented bliss as the next hour took him through a memorable introduction to his headmaster and the school as a whole, and he had food so good that it rivaled his mum's best. He was well fed, tired, and extremely happy. All that the day needed in order to be perfect was a soft bed, and soon enough he would have that.

"_Sorry to burst your bubble kid," _his alter ego started to say, and Ron groaned. 'No no no. I just want to go to bed, please!'

He could feel the sympathy in the next wave of emotions, but the voice was hard, _"Sorry, no can do. This is part of the whole saving everyone bit. I happen to have been told the password for Dumbledores office, as he made a particularly nice discovery of some muggle sweet this past summer in your time line. He remembered having it set on this night and knows he changed it tomorrow morning so no student could get in. Right now we need to get in contact with him as soon as possible, and you'd be surprised how hard it is to get a hold of him if you're not Harry and it doesn't directly involve Voldemort."_

Ron groaned, and banged his head against the edge of the table._ "I'm sorry to ruin your first night here, whether you believe it or not. I remember enjoying the first night, but I think you know that while I am playing a game of chess with you in a way, I couldn't help everyone without you. Are you in?"_

Sighing, he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. The voice hadn't actually asked him yet if he was willing to be a part of this, it had just assumed that he would go along, and so far Ron had been fine with that. He didn't want to see Harry hurt, though, and it was a pretty small thing to lose some sleep to talk to Dumbledore, and it probably would be interesting. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'I'm still with you for now.'

"_Good," _it said,_ "now get Harry to come with you. I'll guide you, and you should leave now. Dumbledore has already left and soon enough Percy will get his claws in you and won't let you escape the other first years."_

Ron turned to face Harry, "Come on mate. I want to check out something the twins told me about quickly," he lied.

Harry looked unsure for a second, "Should we? We don't know how to get to our dorms if we get lost." Ron thought hard for a second, "They told me that too. And the password, so come on, it's really cool if it is true." He got up and headed for the door while Percy wasn't looking, and though Hermione shot him an odd glance when he looked back, he ignored it and was glad to see Harry was following him.

Following the instructions he was given, he made his way to a statue of a Gargoyle, and he turned to Harry. "Um, Harry, we're friends right?" The boy looked confused for a second before smiling widely, "Yeah mate, why would you ever doubt that?" Ron nodded, feeling better having heard that. "I've been keeping a secret of sorts, but it wasn't my place to tell, or at least that's how it was explained to me. I'm about to let you in on it, though, so just bear with me, alright?"

Harry looked confused for a second, but nodded, and he got the odd feeling that he should have known already that Harry would have stuck by him no matter what. Turning back to the Gargoyle, he cleared his throat, "Skittles," he said, and the Gargoyle jumped to the side. Grabbing Harry's wrist, he stepped onto the bottom step like the voice told him to, and rode the lift up to the top, and knocked on the big wooden door there.

"Come in," a voice boomed, and both Ron and Harry jumped, but after some gentle coaxing from the older Ron, he took a deep breath and opened the door. Professor Dumbledore looked up, surprise evident in his eyes, but he ignored his piercing gaze, pulling Harry over so he sat in one large armchair, and then took another for himself. Now came the easy part, and he let himself go, letting his older counterpart take over his body at least temporarily. It was a scary feeling to feel his body moving without him willing it to, but he knew that any point he could take back control, and that's why he allowed it to happen at all.

So Ron felt his head come up and make eye contact with his new headmaster. In a voice that wasn't quite his own, and held a slightly deeper sense of authority he greeted the old man. "Hello Albus. I'd love to catch up on old times, but I think I'm going to have to ask that you read my mind right about now."

XxXxXx

**A/N:**

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. :) Things are just about to pick up, so I look forward to where this story will end up.

You'll find that the story picks up speed soon, however, there has been a lot of ground to cover to get the story setup properly.

Please read and review. Reviews are good for showing me what I have to improve upon, and it definitely makes me more willing to write, knowing that people wish to read my stories. I am currently working on a chapter for my other story, as well as working on my own independent title, so it may be a bit of time until I work on the next chapter for this story. I apologize to those who wish to read more, but give me a few weeks and you'll have your story. :)

There you go, Falcon. Is that a better term to use for Hedwig? (As always, a great round of applause to Falconrok5 for his help.)


	3. Hindsight

I'll save any comments for after the chapter. I just want everyone to give a big thanks to Falconrok5 for his help with looking of my work before it is put out the website.

So, all rights to those who deserve them, and that other legal jazz.

**Voice of Experience : Hindsight**

XxXxXx

Albus pushed his spectacles further up his nose, trying to occupy his mind with the innocuous action. Meanwhile, he kept his eyes firmly locked on those of the young Mr. Weasley. It would not do to let his shock be noticeable to either boy, but it was a very difficult thing to conceal. The sudden and unexpected request had left him curious to unravel the puzzle that was the youngest Weasley.

The boy was a relatively untried boy, as best he knew. His family was prominent no matter it's financial or political standing, and had been one of the few to support him through his entire tenure as champion or the magical world. So it was a puzzle to him how a boy so steeped in innocence and light knew of one of the darker and more drastic measures he used to protect innocent lives when in times of dire need. Not even the boy's father, who was one of the most trusted members of the dormant Order of the Phoenix, knew about his talents in reading minds.

Gathering his magic, he decided upon the course of minor intimidation, and cast wandless magic to make his eyes glow, hoping to unsettle the boy enough that he would crack. Though there certainly was an initial flicker of doubt in his eyes, his face quickly slackened, and displayed an almost over the top lack of interest.

That alone made him worried about the boy sitting before him. Never had he met a first year who had grown up as this child had who could not be intimidated with a show of magic like this. Even Harry appeared nervous, and Albus understood that he had a much darker history to prepare him. His courage would serve him well, but seeing such from a Weasley boy was not something he expected. The mystery was enough that he began to feel a very real desire to enter this boys head, if only to dissuade himself that he was not facing some impostor with nefarious deeds in mind.

Sadly, the morality of the issue was much more difficult to handle than the actual magic itself. Not for the first time he felt a bit constrained by his own morals when it meant the most expedient solution was unavailable to him. Legillimency was horribly violating, and could be considered one of the most personally offense acts a human could commit against another. He could ill afford a slip in morals, when all that separated him from people like Grindelwald and Tom was the fact that he choose to do what was right and not what was easy, no matter the temptation.

Though, he admitted to himself, the world was hardly a clear division between Light and Darkness. Instead it would be best painted in shades of gray.

In the past he had been forced to delve into a student's mind for it had been the right choice, even if it was a damning act to do so. As head of the wizengamot, he understood just how many laws he was breaking each time he did such a thing. But it was his responsibility to keep the students safe, and as their headmaster, he would not let the children of known terrorists bring their preconceived notions into his school to harm others. He truly believed he could save those children, but it would not do to let them harm others in the interim. The intent made the actions no less a violation of a sacred trust, but he saw it as a necessary evil to protect the light.

It was a secret he held close to his chest, and there was only one other man who knew he was a master of the art. Dumbledore had taught that said individual everything he knew about the subtle arts of legillimency and occlumency. And he trusted Severus Snape with all of his secrets.

Yet this boy obviously knew quite well of his magical endowments. The demand painted him into a difficult corner to escape from, and he wondered if that was the point. The boy appeared perfectly willing to wait the night for a response, despite the obvious discomfort Harry felt at their prolonged silence.

It was unfortunate that he had to meet Harry under such circumstances, and it would be very bad form to commemorate their first meeting by having to obliviate the poor boy.

Such a course of action would do him little good, however, as no matter how apparent Harry's lack of knowledge about legillimency was, he didn't know the source of Mr. Weasley's information. To obliviate only one of them would simply allow the information to be leaked again, and most likely with far more drastic effects. For now he had a way to nip the problem before it came to a head, if he could but determine how the boy had learned of his skills. As he seemed unwilling to cooperate however, he found that the only way would be to act as was being asked of him and read his mind, accomplishing the boy's objective.

Albus was quite aware of the many years he had lived at this very moment, and he felt the life drain from him slightly. Judging by the boy's slight smirk, he suspected it was quite apparent to the boy that Albus was trapped. Sighing, he would have wagered that some of the trademark twinkling in his eyes had diminished already.

"I fear you have placed me into a very difficult position, Mr. Weasley. I don't doubt that this was your goal though," he said a bit reproachfully, "and I also would guess that you know what you ask of me is against the law. You have asked the man trusted with upholding the law to break one designed to prevent horrible atrocities being committed." The act he put on was slightly strong, but the words were not untrue, and he hoped to instill some guilt in the boy. "Now, while I may be capable of performing such magic, I fear I could not let a child such as yourself make the decision whether I should do so or not."

Leaning forward, he gave the red head an encouraging smile and spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Perhaps you could simply explain whatever it is that is bothering you?"

Whatever he had been expecting, it had been far from the cold disdain apparent from his young charge's expression.

"Albus," the boy said slowly, as if speaking to a recalcitrant child, "if you do not do as I ask, and do it this moment, I will have quite the nice discussion with Harry here. Perhaps we'll even discuss the sorts of interviews you give to aspiring divination professors? I'm sure he would love to hear what you and Professor Trelawney spoke of together all those years ago. Now, don't you agree it might be better that he hear them from you? If you do as I ask, I'll let you be the first to tell him, tonight that is, and not when you bloody well get around to it either." (

Albus paled and involuntarily gripped the edge of his desk, for the first time in years that all of his careful plans would be undone- by an eleven year old boy, of all things. He was at a complete loss as to what to do about this, briefly considering completely obliviating all of the boy's memories before tossing the idea as being too dark for his tastes. Still, here sat a boy who knew more than any other alive, privy to knowledge that was secret for a reason, and Albus could no longer be sure of the boy's loyalty to the side of light.

Albus swallowed his regrets, making the decision to go through with the act as he met eyes with the boy. For a moment he was bothered by how cold those blue eyes could be for a child, but he pushed his magic into his thoughts, piercing the boy's mental defenses through their shared gaze. It was a gentle touch, not designed to alert or harm the boy, carefully letting the boy know he was in his head and not there to hurt him.

Though he approached with much caution, Albus still held reservations about this Ronald Weasley. He knew not what this boy hoped to gain by having his mind examined, but whatever it was, Albus wished to gleam the needed information quickly and abort the spell. At first the spell seemed perfect, and he traced the subconscious to those memories he sought, but he quickly noticed his magic was being accepted far too readily, pulled deeper into the boy. Attempting to escape, he found himself inexorably drawn into the strangest memory he had ever seen.

Albus fell into a near perfect replica of his office, and he wondered how this had ended up inside Ronald Weasley's head. If he weren't so used to every intimate detail, he would be fooled into believing he had never left. The walls showed a greater sign of age, though only by a touch, and various trinkets he did not recognize lined the shelves.

Though perhaps these were superfluous signs, as the most shocking example that something was amiss was the fact that an older version of himself sat behind his desk.

"Please do make yourself at home, my boy. This is your office too, after all," the older version said, grinning widely as he gestured at a ring of comfy chairs that were always kept in the office for entertaining guests. "I suggest you suspend your disbeliefs about what an eleven year old can do, Albus. You'll find Ronald quite capable, and I believe he will have made sure that you can rest yourself while you are made to suffer his whims in this place. I cannot interact with you, obviously, but I do wish to remember my manners and offer a guest a seat. I assure you, it will be a much nicer way to endure having to listen to an old man lecture you for a time."

Albus fell back into one of the chairs, surprised that he didn't fall through it and fall flat on his bottom, but he was still too gobsmacked from facing himself to worry too much about that.

The memory looked up in the general direction of Albus, his eyes focused on the wall to the right of his head, obviously unsure of where to properly look. "Ah yes," the thought began, running a hand through its beard, "we should decide on a manner of address, don't you agree?"

Smiling, he leaned forward, shifting his gaze so it was resting closer to where Albus was really sitting. "I believe I have the answer, and you shall have to excuse an old man his pride, though I'm sure you understand that quite well. I daresay I have a few more years on you, so I shall refer to you as Albus. Feel free to think of my as Dumbledore if you wish, my boy. I believe such conventions will make our talk much simpler."

Albus just nodded, not worried about such things, and watched as the shade in this boy's head gestured broadly at the room around them. "Now, a most logical question, and therefore the one I believe will be at the forefront of your mind, is where you are, no doubt."

The smile that he was given was a bit pitying, " Surely you must feel incredibly humbled at the moment, my boy. I do believe I would have had quite the hard time at your age moving past the fact that an eleven year old child with no training managed to turn your magic against you. A sign, I'm sure you'll agree, that you should never overlook one's merit due solely to age. That is neither here nor there, though, and I can assure you that he is the only person besides myself to know this bit of magic. The idea came to me after reading a wonderful book, one that you do not yet have in your collection, I might add. Do keep your eye open over the summer of Harry and Ronald's second year for the latest at Flourish and Blotts. No doubt you'll have little idea of what I have done until such time, but I shall simply describe the spell as being similar to a pensieve. Ronald has merely been kind enough to carry this memory back for me so that I could have a discussion with you, and hopefully dissuade you of some of our worst habits early on this time."

The specter looked apologetic as it pulled out a bag from the desk, revealing a large collection of muggle sweets. He then took a lemon drop and smiled as he put it into his mouth, "Pardon my manners, I would offer you one under different circumstances, but at least one of us need not suffer without, but I think you'll understand Albus."

Albus frowned. It was obvious that this was some experiment in time travel, but he was getting frustrated watching his older self settle into the chair, not explaining a single thing to him. Instead, all it did was waste time with pleasantries and idle banter.

As his temper began to run away with him, the vision locked eyes with him, and though they must have been focused on the wall behind him, he couldn't help but feel as if he really were being watched. Truly though, the most disconcerting thing was how he couldn't recognize himself in those blue eyes that were looking at him as if weighing his worth.

"I suspect you need to get a better hold of your temper, Albus. I merely am treating you with the same regard you show others, so if you are truly feeling any ill will, let it not be directed at me. If not, then I apologize for being so presumptuous."

"Now, where were we? Ah yes, I was going to give you an explanation as to what has taken place to warrant these actions. Before we begin, I recommend you suspend your preconceived notions and get off your high broomstick to listen to another's opinion."

Albus glared, but it was obviously ineffective on the memory, and it kept going.

"I trust that you have realized by now that Ronald has indeed traveled from the future, and has taken habitat in his younger self. I do not recommend you try and persuade him that this was a foolish reaction, he will accept little argument as to why it should not have been done. I must add that from my own perspective that without the knowledge he or I possess, to do so would be beyond the pale in terms of hubris."

The truth was that Albus had wanted to do just that. Time travel on a scale larger than a few hours was highly dangerous, and should never have been attempted. Yet this person truly did appear to understand his mind, and he was forced to admit that he was terribly in the dark about what could have convinced him to send the Weasley boy back into time.

"Nor was it my idea," the shade said slowly, smiling as he demonstrated that uncanny ability to know what Albus would think. "Ronald was quite passionate when he came to me and asked me to help him with the needed spells. I do believe that should you look past your spectacles and see the boy as something other than a student, as you too will be hard pressed to find flaws in his reasoning. Perhaps he could even let you view the memory of the inspirational dressing down he gave me, as it was one of the most compelling speeches I have ever heard. Should you find yourself separated from your delusions of grandeur in the near future, I would highly recommend making this request of him."

Albus snorted slightly, his anger growing at the tone that was being taken with him. He would have let his indignation grow, but instead reigned it in tightly, worried what he would do to the boy should his magic be fueled by emotion here. It would most likely be enough to free him of this prison, but he didn't care for the cost of such actions. No doubt it would do irreparable damage to the boy's mind. That left having to listen to this unwarranted scolding until the very end. Until such time, he would remain calm, feeling as if he claimed a small victory in doing so.

"I must warn you that should you continue to act the way you have been, you will bring disappointment to many, Albus. You're no longer the great general, nor should you be. Your machinations will eventually crumble, and I can honestly tell you it will be at the worst time. The one boy that the entire world was forced to rely upon, you left to the wolves, and he was eaten by the beasts that hunt him. And it was worse than your nightmares could prepare you for, my boy. I know this to be true as well."

"With that said, I pose you a question you must consider," the memory said slowly as it stood up. Suddenly its face contorted in a rictus of fury, and it slammed its hands into the desk hard enough that Albus flinched. Though the memory dulled it, he felt the magic building around him and grow strong enough to make the hairs on his arms rise up. He was being leveled with the same intimidating look he gave others when he expected them to act, and this time he understood their terror all too well. It had been a long time since he had been truly terrified of someone, and now he was shaking like a schoolboy.

The next declaration was delivered at such volume it echoed in Albus' ears, "Now you will listen well, for I challenge your honor with these words. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you doddering old fool, what in Merlin's names were you thinking?!"

It was from the corner of his eye that he saw something speeding towards his head, and all thoughts of this being merely a memory left him as he ducked from the flying books and trinkets. Flicking his wrist, he forgot that he did not have his wand in its holster here, in a child's mind. Then again, few ever expected to be attacked in a memory, so there was little need for such defenses.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself meet the eyes of an incredibly angry version of himself. The words had enraged him too, but it was as a candle to the bonfire compared with this rage he was witnessing. Whatever had infuriated him so was a powerful force, far stronger than his own injured pride.

"You are a manipulative old fool," the memory hissed at him. "You're as involved in your own self image as the supreme mugwump and guardian of the light that you could not find your arse if it summoned both hands to it! Surely you've seen Harry by now; is this your champion? A malnourished, abused boy, placed under the most questionable of care because you believed your decision was best, and ignoring McGonagall's words to the contrary?"

"Perhaps he even reminds you of another boy, whose burgeoning darkness was allowed to grow thanks to you damnable pride. You long believed that you could stop him should he grow out of hand, yet you failed. Now stands Harry, a boy who makes Riddle's own past pale in comparison and with potential for more power than either you or Tom. Shall we trust such a thing into the hands of one who has already failed so spectacularly?!"

"That boy should hate you," the vision said, its voice suddenly soft, and Albus winced at such a damning admission. "Yet he is a better man than you, Albus, and capable of more love than any child who has lived with such people as the Dursleys can be expected of. Through every mistake, he has worked through his anger to eventually forgive us our transgressions. In all of my one hundred and twenty three years of life, I have never been more ashamed of doing what is _right_."

His older self stood up to his full height, and the magic gathered to him. He seemed to be wrapped in his own power, and his eyes glowed in a way that put Albus' own earlier display with Mr. Weasley to shame. Those eyes promised horrible retribution should his demands be denied in any way. Finally the eyes locked on him, reaching into his soul from a reality removed from his own, and he felt a shiver go down his spine.

"You will take Harry from that hovel in which you thrust him in and train him yourself. The plans you have dreamed up will not breed the man you need to win you your war, Albus," the voice held such contempt when speaking of the Dursleys, he had to wonder what had really happened to leave Harry looking as he did.

"I do not care how difficult this is for you," the shade continued, "but you will not let that boy experience the hell I know awaits him should you have your way. You command an order of talented witches and wizards, head them as the strongest wizard since the times Merlin walked the earth, and so I trust you have the ability to make this happen."

The older Dumbledore looked him in the eye again, looking appraisingly at him. "I can hardly believe I need to say this, but I fear I must, for I remember how stubborn I could be. I have instructed Ronald in how to exactly discredit you and prepare Harry for the things to come, should you ignore my wishes. Please do not disappoint me, for I would hate to have an eleven year old boy show the world how easy it is to ruin every single one of your plans."

Those final words trapped Albus between embarrassment, fear, and quite a large dose of anger.

Had it been anyone but himself telling him these things, and in such a tone, he would have let his resentment lead him to find a way to silence them. Regardless of the fact that they were simply a memory of a time that would hopefully never be. But deep within him was a part of his soul that secretly enjoyed getting castigated by a source that knew his darkest secrets.

It had long festered inside of him. That doubt about whether he was doing the right thing, only to be buried deep inside each time it tried to dissuade him from following his self prescribed course. It left whispered guilts in his ear at night, when he was alone and subject to the company of his own mind, letting him know his worth for being so manipulative. Now he was faced with a voice he could not drown out, a person who spoke clearly of how he was wrong. And truthfully, the thought of what had happened to turn him into what he saw on the other side of his desk left him shuddering in fright.

For a moment he just stared back into the eyes of this angry glimpse of the future, feeling conflicted and very numb all of a sudden. It seemed the older Dumbledore shared his fatigue, for he suddenly collapsed in his chair. The magic was gone from the room, and he no longer looked angry, but very very tired. Waving his wand casually, the pensieve removed itself from the cabinet to float forward and land on the desk between them.

For a moment his older self examined the magical artifact, leaning forward to run a thumb over its engravings, lost in some deep thought before speaking. "I had Ronald share many of his memories with me. Some I added myself, of course, but a large number come from that young boy you probably so quickly over looked. I fear the only way for you to truly understand is to show you what it is we have had to live through. Perhaps afterwards you will understand why it is I beg the gods to judge me lightly when I move on to the next life."

The memory began to fall in towards the pensieve as the memory leaned in, bringing its large hooked nose to the rim. Albus waited for the disorientation to pass before examining his surroundings.

They were in the middle of what seemed to be the most eerie muggle graveyard, something straight from the scenes of a horror story.

From behind him came the only sound in the darkness of night, "Harry once shared these memories with his friends, using my pensieve to do so. The magic may be stretched thin to fully draw on the details of the world around the subject, but I foresee no difficulty viewing the essential portions. There are a myriad number of things to be aware of here, so I shall leave you to witness them alone. I believe I have some respects to pay alone."

The specter left him then, going close enough he wasn't compelled by the magic to have to follow, but far enough he felt like he was separate from the other person. The older man was hidden in a shadow cast by an old dead oak tree, and he shivered at the way the scant light made him look so very old. Not just in physical years, but an old soul, long overdue to be laid to rest.

Ripping his gaze from the depressing sight, Albus tried to objectively take in the graveyard. Something about the place spoke of dark rites and great evils. Dimly it reminded him of the magical concentration camps Grindelwald had kept secret from the muggles. The same evil magic permeated this place, so strong even through memory alone that Albus felt ill to witness it.

Though the gravestones were perfectly maintained, they were jarring on the eye, cold and hard on the eyes, silent sentinels speaking of the mortality of man. Each cried out to him, tolling on about a thousand horrible deaths, and even the wind didn't blow in this place, not daring enough to disturb this sanctum of evil.

Silence was not to be held for long, and a chain of pops flooded his hearing, signaling the arrival of some two dozen death eaters. Each robed figure held a small muggle girl of no more than 15 summers, bound and gagged, their eyes bulging with fear at the sense of their impending doom. Though their faces were masked, Albus could feel their excitement on the air as they imagined the next few moments of moral abandon.

In their center though was Tom, or some horrible mockery of the once sinisterly handsome young man he had known in the first war. No matter the skin in which he dwelt though, Albus could sense the evil that was held within his soul. He too held a wand to the throat of a girl who was most easily the youngest, yet she held the most defiance in her eyes.

Albus longed for the strength of youth to face such odds head on, but the combination of being a mere memory and the understanding that it was pointless, made him stand stock still to watch.

"Harry," Tom hissed out, sounding more like a snake his ancestors payed homage to than a rational human being, "I know you're here, boy. I can tell your dreams bring you to this place, dreaming of our time together. I suggest a game, in honor of that wonderful night. I do so hope you will play."

A flash of orange brown light left his wand, and despite being so close, Albus watched the split second reaction of the young girl Tom held change to horror, realizing she would have no rescue from this. For a long moment she thrashed on the ground, writhing and screaming under the cruciatus curse. Before long her head hit the corner of a tombstone hard enough to crack her skull, staining the stone red. A few more convulsions and she lay still, even under the curse. The life within that small child had forever been extinguished.

"Do you care for the first round of the game Potter? If you send me one of the children that followed you to the ministry last year, I shall let these children go. One life can save so many innocents, Harry. Will you doom so many for your selfish desire to protect your friends? You have until morning, at which point I promise you I will have lost all patience and will kill them all. For now though, I suggest you stay and watch the way muggles should properly serve wizarding kind before I let you report to that headmaster of yours."

The next few minutes passed at an agonizingly slow pace for Albus, and he was forced to look away as acts of horrible torture and rape were performed by the death eaters. Such an atrocity left him feeling ill, and his faith in humanity deeply shaken. Many of the death eaters he saw before he had once been students, and it shamed him horribly to know that he had let them turn into such monsters.

Even as he averted his gaze so as to not be subjected to the worst portions of this nightmare, he saw that portions of the memory were missing. To his best guess, he suspected that Harry had purposefully tried to spare others the most horrific moments of this memory, and he began to connect with the boy. He had never known this Harry, but such tragedies as he had undergone to have to witness this would leave scarring deep within the heart that would never truly be healed.

Gradually the memory faded, moving Albus to the same location, only now the graveyard was bathed in a soft morning light. Standing over a pile of burnt and dismembered bodies were Harry and the Weasley boy, both much older and serious-looking. Near them was a teary eyed witch he wagered on being another first year he had seen tonight, Hermione Granger, and a long time friend and ally, Alastor Moody. While the Weasley and Granger were in tears and holding on to one another for comfort, Harry appeared numb to the sight.

Though to watch the act as he had, Albus would guess that it was almost a needed sense of closure for Harry to see the bodies. A sense of peace to deaden the shock of so many dead before him, knowing their pain was over with. It was a long moment that he stared at them, unmoving except for a slow clenching and unclenching of his fists.

Eventually he nodded to Moody, who placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, showing a silent understanding of his pain. Shortly the other two composed themselves and grabbed onto the auror's sleeve, and they were whisked away, causing the memory to change with it.

Albus was then subjected to a parade of difficult memories, most donated by Harry, for the remainder of an hour. Though there were myriad different moments of the boy's life being displayed, there seemed to be no order to them, and in a way that was rather saddening to watch. The boy seemed to show his desire to strike out at those watching, to let them witness his pain and have them experience a small amount of it themselves by never letting them accept a patten of abuse. One moment they would go from the acts of Tom, to times he was shut in a cupboard for weeks on end.

The worst recollection of this timeline, though, was one of those near the end, and it had been provided by Mr. Weasley instead of from the usual perspective of Harry. The scene began with an argument between the boy and Ms. Granger, resulting in resentment and anger at some minor slight that only a boy his age could take offense to. While normally such things would have been resolved quickly with no lingering effects, war had its way, and demonstrated why it was important to never leave unresolved issues to fester.

Instead of having the chance to properly apologize, events spiraled out of control far too quickly for any party to properly guard themselves against it. The wards were soundly broken about the Weasley property, and all but Mr. Weasley taken to one of Tom's lairs. Though Mr. Weasley did his best, the brief glimpses of the next few days, and those horrendous moments in the company of Tom, would no doubt have changed him as much as they had Harry. The boy had been put through a terrible reformation, and though it had cooled his temper and produced a strong man, it was truly a change that should never have been.

Throughout the entire experience however was his older self, an aged fixture who remained frozen in the shadows of a memory. Never before had he seen any one man look so tired and full of guilt, and he could only gather he was thinking of every opportunity he had to stop these events from unfolding. It was a horribly frightening thing to imagine that had fate continued unhindered, he would have been the bearer of such heavy feelings and burdens.

Slowly the scene changed from the burned and twisted remained of Harry, lying on the grounds of Hogwarts with the first peaceful expression in years, to that of his office. Albus felt much older now than when they had begun, and almost wished for the comfort of a bottle for a few hours. This feeling went well beyond his long years, but it attacked his very store of energy, that thing that drove him on to live longer and to continue his fight to protect the light.

Truly, if he were to be honest with himself, all he wanted now was to hang up his mantle and let someone else take up the cause so he could rest. It had been far too long a century for him, and seeing such misfortune gravitate to one innocent boy saddened him beyond simple words.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs again, he looked up to see the same aged expression on this broken version of himself.

Slowly it began to speak, and he felt himself compelled to listen to a voice of authority more than he ever had in the past. "Did you truly believe the Dursleys were a good choice, Albus?" it asked in a quiet voice. "Did you expect muggles with such fear in their hearts to ever accept and care for that boy like he deserves. You saw the address upon which his letters were written, and did you not ask yourself why he was in such a place? That boy needed a better home than you gave him, as well as the training to survive the storms of war that will fill his life."

"The home to which you sent him is your only sin for now. But I bequeath you to reconsider your actions and save Harry from the fate he suffered in my world. Ronald took a large risk to save the boy who was his brother in spirit, and he has given you another chance to do what you should have done the first time."

"You no longer are the great general, Albus," the voice said softly, not intending to hurt with its words. "Our mistakes could cost many innocents their lives. You pride yourself on trying to teach children about doing what is right when faced with difficult times, so you must act as you preach and lay your pride to the side. Admit to yourself that you are too old to live through another war that will ravage the land. This war has taken the last spark of life from me, and I know it is nearly time for me to pass on, but that doesn't need to be your fate. It is not a certainty you shall win, but teach Harry how to win, and ensure that he WANTS to be the world's savior. Right now you are his best shield against what fate would have planned for him had you gone unchecked. You need not darken his entire childhood with thoughts of war, but you can prepare him for when the events that herald the return of Tom truly begin again."

The specter turned its chair so the back of the seat was all Albus could see, "You must be a better family to Harry than his own blood relatives or I ever were."

With that, Albus felt the magic holding him to this memory release its grip over him, and he was able to slowly withdraw, leaving Mr. Weasley's head.

Sitting before him, where he had sat in the memory, were the two boys, and he hung his head in shame. He recognized they had set him up to be sitting there so the memory could better intimidate him by knowing where he was, but that was inconsequential now. For now he merely wanted to compose himself before trying to discuss anything with these boys.

Right now he was faced with a large range of emotions to sort through.

Anger, at being talked down to in a manner unlike any he had ever experienced before. Shame, for the pain he could have caused Harry through his machinations. And most of all was the embarrassment.

In his very long life, he had never before considered the possibility that he could be so horribly wrong about anything. All it took to see that was one young man to come back to this time and do what was right, no matter how _easy_ it would have been to move on and not have to relive this nightmare again. Albus could not say he acted out of ill will towards Harry, but looking back, the decision to place him with the Dursleys had been the easy choice. That, and many other small choices were easy, but not right.

Perhaps it truly was time for him to move out of the spotlight, and hand the stage over to the next generation. He had grown accustomed to the people's attentions, and he admitted he enjoyed being the focus for crowds of admirers. Albus had been a rather precocious child, and it was a saddening thing to see that hadn't moved as far past that point of his life as he might have wished.

His thoughts started to grow darker with that, and just as he could not stop the ocean's tide, he began to be caught up in a vicious examination of all his thoughts and actions of late. He was saved from this damning action though when a soft song filled the room, and the darkness that was building inside of him broke. It did not absolved the guilt, but the phoenix song was more than enough of a bulwark to lean up against in order to think of a proper solution, and not the problem.

Mr. Weasley had come back with a purpose in mind, and these boys needed his help to see their plans through. Most of the foreknowledge would be of little use, given the unfortunate circumstances in which the previous Voldemort was defeated, but the older version of Mr. Weasley was a steady wand and keen mind that could help Harry. No doubt they could use some of the information to their advantage, but there would be a large burden upon him to prepare them well for the war.

It would not be a pardon for his crimes, but it would be a good beginning to changing himself. If he were so willing to grant pardon to dark witches and wizards, perhaps it was time to begin to forgive himself of his own mistakes.

Looking up, he ignored the red headed boy's piecing gaze for the moment to look at the clock on the wall above the entrance. He had been distracted for a far shorter time than he had thought, even though the time he had spent in the boys head had felt much longer, and he knew he could not put this meeting off for the evening. Again, he could only wonder if this had been another portion of a larger plan.

Meeting Mr. Weasley's gaze, he nodded slightly, and the boy relaxed. Seeing Harry's attention on the occupant of the perch in his room, he smiled softly.

"Thank you for the wonderful song, Fawkes," he said, drawing the dark haired boy's attention back to him. The boy gave him a glance that begged the question of what Fawkes was, and about the song, so he provided them as best he could at the time. "A phoenix, Harry. Amazing creatures, but alas, I think we shall have to wait to discuss them later. For now I believe your friend has brought us here for more important reasons."

Albus then faced the red head, this time not shying away from his gaze, "Would you mind if I referred to you as Ronald, like my predecessor? And perhaps you can ask your other self if it would be more appropriate to simply call him Ron?"

The boy smirked, painting a very odd sight. It truly did appear as if an older man used a child's face to try and mimic the expressions of an adult. "I'm glad to see you're open to taking suggestions from Dumbledore. Maybe there is hope for you yet, headmaster."

Albus's face twitched as he kept from smiling, not at all bothered by the formal form of address used by this man before him. "Perhaps there are a few things he pointed out that I believe I should respect and consider. Only tell me, Ronald, how much do you wish to speak of with Harry here? I cannot argue about his involvement, not after seeing those things, but as you are the most well-versed in what is to be taking place in the near future, I feel I must default to your expertise in this matter."

Ron looked at Harry for a moment, but the expression left little doubt that Ronald already knew how much he wished to be telling the other boy. "Everything, headmaster. Ron is already a good friend of his, and you've already seen in those memories how he takes to half truths. You can tell him everything that has happened up until now, and then I will explain my part in this."

Harry looked ready to protest being discussed to offhandedly, but Albus held up a hand to stop him from doing so. "Peace, Harry. We do not mean you any slight by talking of you in this way, but there are some things your friend and I must decide upon before we inform you of what we know. Some parts are better told by me, and others by him, and we wish to present this to you in the best manner possible."

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out the bag of lemon drops he stored away for emergencies, and subtly tapped his wand against the side of the bag. Placed upon the sweets was a small spell to help calm the boy, so they could more easily discuss what was happening.

"Here, I believe it best to begin these things on a light note, so have a lemon drop, Harry."

Harry reached across the desk to grab the sweet, and began to suck on it, within a few seconds he began to look calmer. He no longer looked ready to protest against what was taking place, and Albus replaced the bag in his desk. Ronald quirked an eyebrow at his actions, and Albus suspected the man knew what it was he had done.

"Now Harry, I must apologize to you. I have done you a great disservice that shames me to have ever committed." Albus ignored the images of abuse that floated in his memory, ghostly reminders of the trip into Ronald's memories.

Harry shook his head, vigorously trying to refute the claim, "Of course not Professor. I'm sorry for barging in here, there's nothing for you to apologize for!"

Albus sighed, "Tell me Harry, can you honestly say you cared for your time with the Dursleys?"

The boy instantly had a guarded expression, "I suspect it was pretty normal, Professor. They don't like magic though, so there might have been a bit of strain there, but nothing too serious."

Ronald snorted, "And I am the ghost of the Bloody Barron. Harry, look, right now this isn't the normal Ron speaking to you, he's just letting me out to talk to the headmaster. But I was once a good friend of yours, in a manner of speaking, so let me tell you something as a friend, and don't you dare hold this against Ron later."

The boy took a deep breath to compose himself, "Stop the damned secrecy crap. You may not like sharing secrets about yourself, but if you want a friend, you have to give as good as you get, mate. We're not going to destroy your privacy. We'll worry about you, try and help you when you're down, but we can't do that if you hold us at arm's length. If you want a friend to give you their trust, you've got to give them some as well."

As soon as the words were out, the very way Ronald held himself changed, and Albus suspected he was meeting the eleven year old Ron for the first time. "Harry! Bloody hell, I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting him to say that, I swear."

Harry shook his head, but his eyes were locked on the floor, "No, you, or whoever said that, is right. I guess I have been getting this friendship off to a pretty shoddy start, not really telling you anything. I...just don't want to talk about it yet, okay? Maybe another time..."

He sounded as guilty as his friend looked, and Albus took pity on them by coughing lightly, distracting them from the moment. "A good idea, I feel. I must apologize again though, as I am the one who brought it up. Now, without going into detail of your youth, I do realize your time spent with the Dursleys was...unpleasant," he said, his anger at the muggles bleeding into the last word. "I apologized before for it was my choice to have you placed under their care."

"Against the better opinions of Professor McGonagall and those close to your parents, I sent you there to better protect you should Voldemort resurface, Harry. There is old and powerful magic tied to your Aunt, designed to keep you safe should things go awry. That is no excuse for my actions however, as it is obvious that they are not fit to parent a child such as you. I did what was the simplest option, instead of what would have been best for you, and I offer my most sincere apologies."

For a moment Albus was very glad that he had slipped Harry the charmed sweets to calm him, for he could see a great deal of hurt and anger pass through those emerald eyes. It was an underhanded technique to keep the boy relaxed, but it was important that he heard the full story, and he knew it was important to help the boy cope properly. He had years of abuse to help Harry through, and his own habits to change, and such things could not be accomplished in one night alone.

"But why was it needed, headmaster?" Harry asked softly, "I thought everyone said he died that night. Why put me there if he was already dead?" Harry sounded vulnerable, and scared of the possibilities, causing Albus to frown deeply.

"Harry, you must understand, there was much magic used that night that is beyond any of us to understand. Truly, before Ronald here pointed out the opposite, I had hoped that you really had seen the last of the man, but I could not let myself be completely convinced and ignore your safety. It is fortunate he has not had the power to try and return sooner than now, but Voldemort is very much alive, and will likely someday find a way back into your life."

The small boy before him nodded, his eyes still misty from the enforced calm even as he wore a grim expression. Obviously the news was not a complete shock, and he was pleased to see Harry had come to the truth by himself. The hardships weren't over though, and he had to move on to more tenuous ground.

"I fear there is more, Harry, so please do not become too complacent. And once I have finished, it will be Ronald's turn to speak to you." Turning to the redhead, he gave the boy a smile to calm him. He did not want this boy too angry with his older self for teaching Harry a lesson in friendship that would have been a long time in coming had he not been so brave as to speak those words. "I would suggest you let your friend speak at that time as well, Ron. I assure you, his words were only meant so as to aid your friend, and his only fault is that he was perhaps a bit blunt with his words."

The boy frowned, but Albus believed he would listen to his council, so he turned his attention back to the other child. "I did not wish to tell you these things until you were older, Harry, but I suspect that if I ever wish to earn your trust and atone for my sins, I would be wise to tell you fully of your connection to Voldemort at this point in time." Taking a calming breath, Albus began to carefully give background about the first war against Tom, and then the prophecy and Harry's connection to it.

His shocked face came early in the retelling, and he had no doubt the boy had quite a fair mind, putting together the pieces before he could reach the end. Ron seemed amazed as well, and he wondered how much his older self had divulged before this night.

By the end though, both boys were pale, and Harry had a horrified flighty expression, making Albus fear the boy was close to having a slight breakdown, no matter the calming spell. It was a close thing to stifle his sigh, but he had feared this sort of reaction. Though less..._dramatic_ then he had once feared, this was exactly the reason he had convinced himself to wait on telling the boy. In this state the boy would be useless to everyone, and he feared for how the knowledge would affect him to know he was labeled by prophecy to be a killer.

Making eye contact with Fawkes, he gave the bird a silent plea for help in both calming the boy and impressing upon him the morality of stopping Voldemort. The bird understood the request, and gave a slight trill before jumping to the back of Harry's chair, standing next to the boys head.

The phoenix placed the crown of its head into the nook of Harry's neck, slowly letting out a soft calming melody as it continued to nuzzle the boy. As the boy began to relax, the bird lifted its beak to Harry's ear, singing a melody too soft for any to catch but Harry, and for a moment the boy appeared surprised. Then slowly he began to sit straighter, looking more confident, though still tired and scared, before Fawkes moved back to his perch. Harry turned into his seat to nod in thanks to the bird, then he nodded to Albus as well, thanking them for the gift of Fawkes song.

Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder as well, his face a mask of confusion at what had just happened, "I'm not really sure what's going on anymore mate, but you know I'll try to help, right? So don't worry, I mean we have the best wizard since Merlin and a time traveling auror to help us, what could go wrong?"

Harry gave a small laugh, but then gave his friend a slightly sharp glance, "And what's this about an auror, Ron?"

Albus laughed freely for the first time that evening at the panicked expression on the boys face at that line of questioning. "It would seem, Ron, that Harry here is now in need of your story." The boy looked slightly stubborn for a moment before he nodded, and a moment later his expression changed back to that of someone older and more guarded.

"Yeah, sorry about before, mate," Ronald said hesitantly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a gesture of awkwardness. "Can't tell you how bloody odd having to talk to you like this is."

He took a deep breath, "Harry, before anything else, understand this is still Ron, or I guess Ronald is what I'll be called while here. I don't come from this time, but the important thing is that you were fighting Voldemort in the future, and I stood at your side through the whole damn thing. It was pretty damn close, but we won, even though the cost was too high. Friends and family for both of us died in the fighting, and we both nearly got our tickets stamped as well. The war was done with for a few years, but you weren't right in the head, and basically comatose to the world. When it got to be too much for you, you ended up taking your own life, but before you wonder why you would do that, you have to realize you had it the worst of all of us. Voldemort put you through hell before you got him, and it was so bad that I don't think any of us didn't want to escape this mortal coil sooner rather than later."

"I spent some time brooding about the damned war and your exit from Gryffindor tower the dramatic way, and finally came up with a crazy idea. The actual magic doesn't matter, but me and the headmaster from my own time came up with a spell to come back in time and change everything, for the better hopefully. I'm not sure how I can help, now that I've got this version of Dumbledore off his butt to help you, but I'll do my best. I can help train you two, along with Dumbledore, but I don't have more than second hand knowledge of attacks to really pass on. The final fight, and some other key people and events have already been given to this Dumbledore, so I'm about done with what I can do for you in that way. All I can say is that I'll make sure you two don't have to relive the same mistakes I, and the previous Harry, went through."

Harry nodded, "So is that why you had Ron make friends with me," he asked softly.

Albus noticed a momentary flicker of expression, and it seemed as if the two personalities within the boy warred for a moment, but then he froze in what he assumed to be some internalized discussion before the Ronald appeared to take control again. "Ron himself wanted to tell you that isn't true, but I convinced him to let me tell you. Did I arrange it so you two will meet? Yeah, I bloody well did. I even had to poke and prod him into actually writing over the summer, since I was bloody lazy at that age. But I never once influenced how you two got on."

The boys stared at each other for a moment, and Albus could feel the tension build as Harry weighed Ronald's words. Finally he nodded, accepting the sincereness Ronald had presented, and they shook hands, an understanding passing between them.

Coughing once more, he managed to redirect their attention back to himself, and he leaned forward, his forearms supporting him on his desk. "Now, while I am sure there is much to discuss still, I believe it would be best if we adjourn for the evening. It has grown quite late, and while I do not often like to do such things, please take this."

Albus reached into his desk to retrieve two small stoppered vials of powder. Contained within each was a powerful sleeping agent, that in this dose would ensure each boy got a good night's rest, despite the late hour at which they were retiring. "These two vials are for you boys, and will help you be rested by morning. Simply pour them into a full glass of water, and I do ask that you do not try and save them for another day. It is the first day of classes tomorrow for both of you, and despite the circumstances, you still need to be awake and ready to begin your education. In order to succeed in your endeavors, both of you will need to excel in your studies, and I ask that you approach tomorrow, and every day after, seriously. I do not care for adding hardships to children as young as you, but a small amount of effort today shall save us much pain later. I will be in contact with more information about special lessons when you two have properly settled in."

Both nodded, then stood up, taking the vials from him with many 'thank you's'. They all made some very small talk as things wound down for the evening, and Albus gave them the password into their dormitory as well as a note to be out in the halls.

The two made their way out of his office, discussing the events of the past few hours. To their credit, they demonstrated a good deal of discression by not discussing the most pertinent information where it could be overheard.

Leaning back in his chair, he took a moment to massage his temples before fishing around in his desk for a potion to cure his headache. Taking a small sip, he ignored the temptation to sleep as well and instead steeled himself, taking out a piece of parchment and quill. If he was to teach these boys, he would do it properly, and it had been a long time since he could enjoy simply writing up a lesson plan. Tomorrow would come the designs to protect those boys from people such as Quirrel. They did not have a class with that particular professor until next week, and he could easily arrange for the other man to miss mealtimes until then.

He had just begun to write out the proper ways to teach them dueling tactics when a flash distracted him, and upon inspecting his room he noticed Fawkes was notably absent. For a moment it was a source of curiosity as to what prompted the bird to leave, but then he felt their bond tell him that the bird was located in the Gryffindor tower. No doubt his old friend was even in the room where Harry and Ron slept at this very moment.

Smiling to himself, he buried himself in his work once more.

XxXxXx

A/N:

Hopefully everyone enjoyed this installment of the story.

I am glad however that these first three chapters are done. There was a lot of ground to cover, and soon there will be more action (including an action scene next chapter) and some time skips.

For those interested, I've given a brief clip from my next fan fiction at the end of these notes. The other story I am spending time on lately is an idea for a book I have had in mind for close to a year, but I will not post that online.

As for the chapter, I found I had more material at the end of my rough draft, but it felt right to end things here. Dumbledore is especially long winded in my opinion, so the style of writing reflects that, and so the old man got his own chapter. And while I am not particularly against Dumbledore, it was fun having Dumbledore Dumble bash himself, so to speak.

Next chapter is underway, and it will introduce one of the biggest plot twists to this story. It's not totally unheard of, but I like to think the way I am doing it will be different. It will have long lasting effects on the plot and the characters. The only hint is that it ties into the name of this story as well.

Until next time, stay safe. And for those with some time on their hands, I will include a brief blurb about an upcoming Harry Potter story, as well as the first few paragraphs. It's still in it's rough draft format, however, so please don't judge it too harshly.

OoOoOo

One Sided Sun:

'To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. ' David Viscott

_Notes:_

My first attempt at a more romance laced action story. The action will be more muted, and character interaction much more pivotal. There will be battles on and off the fields of war.

This is going to be an attempt at a Harry/Gabrielle relationship, in honor of an amazing piece of fiction by Jeconais' entitled 'Hope'. Truly an inspirational piece of fiction that opened my eyes to a pairing with a lot of potential, but rarely seen.

_Short Summary:_

Harry is a duelist of the highest ranking. A force unto himself that only Voldemort can stand against, and then only with the help of dark arts and darker tactics to ensure survival.

Gabrielle has graduated from Beauxbaton as one of the best witches to pass through the sacred halls in ages. It is time for her to learn how to be of use in the war that is tearing the magical world apart at it's seems.

Harry has a trouble past he can't move fully past, and Gabrielle is looking for her future. Together, they're going to undo the damage Voldemort is causing and pave a way for the next generation, even if that takes them to the gallows and beyond.

_Excerpt:_

Harry felt trapped.

No matter how hard he struggled to move on, his unconscious mind would always force him to relive this one moment in his dreams.

Harry watched as his hand rose by itself, wandless, but still poised to smite his enemy. His wand was lying forgotten somewhere behind him, but he would not need it for this final spell.

They hadn't expected Godric's Hallow to be the site of such a large battle, but each man and woman who had come with them to investigate reported death eater activity had fought bravely, holding the location until reinforcements had arrived. Though the beginning had been rough, with the arrival of Dumbledore, the death eaters were being forced back between the headmaster's and Harry's combined power.

The chance to win their first major battle on English soil had galvanized those fighting on their side, and they had given Harry the perfect opportunity to strike out at Voldemort.

Slowly a feeling of warmth and happiness suffused the dream, and Harry did his best to ignore the feeling. It was difficult to do, though, as a golden light filled his palm, a reflection of the emotions used to power the spell. It was useless to try and break free from the dream, but Harry did his best to wake, not liking the way the memory of this spell could remind him so much of her. That love and joy would only make the next portion of the dream much harder to handle.

He had seen it countless times now, but his heart still began to quicken as Voldemort began to pick himself up off the ground. The dark lord was gravely injured, dazed from the last attack that had forced him to the ground, but still he recognized his death awaiting him. The very air hummed with the magic bleeding from the spell Harry was weaving.

Then from the corner his eyes, he saw a flash of red hair, dodging and weaving spell fire from various enemies. For a moment Harry saw the glint in Voldemort's eyes as he found a way to finally weaken Harry enough to strike him down.

His spell only needed a few more seconds to be complete, but the killing curse was much faster, and struck before Harry could retaliate.

As that one small body hit the ground along with the death eaters, Harry's spell lost cohesion, it's power source gone. All that was left was for Harry was to look up into the eyes of the man that was preparing a second curse to reunite him with her...

_That's it! Stay safe everyone, and until next time!_


End file.
